


falling once, falling twice

by nonparlobaenay



Category: EXO (Band)
Genre: 69 (Sex Position), Alternate Universe - Canon, Anal Fingering, Angst, Bottom Huang Zi Tao | Z. Tao, Bottom Lu Han, Canon Compliant, Canon Era, First Meetings, First Time, First Time Blow Jobs, Hand Jobs, Hurt/Comfort, Idols, Jealousy, Kim Jongin | Kai & Oh Sehun are Best Friends, M/M, Meet-Cute, Mutual Pining, OT12 (EXO), Oh Sehun-centric, Pining, Rimming, Slow Burn, Smut, Top Lu Han, Top Oh Sehun, Top Wu Yi Fan | Kris, Unrequited Love, Wet Dream, chanbaek if you squint, smut in ch 3 & 4
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-01-26
Updated: 2019-05-13
Packaged: 2019-10-16 21:20:48
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 6
Words: 21,854
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17553410
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/nonparlobaenay/pseuds/nonparlobaenay
Summary: Sehun likes Luhan. Zitao likes Yifan. They don't get exactly what they want, but they make do.





	1. Prologue: 2011

**Author's Note:**

> My first fanfic in nearly four years. BIG thanks to my beta, K, who read over this chapter like five times and listened to me ramble on about my plan for this fic for hours. I love you bb.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sehun meets Luhan for the first time, and finds his place in EXO.

Sehun falls for Han— _call me Luhan_ —at first sight. It’s the type of unadulterated infatuation he’s felt for boys since grade school; the one he’s learned to keep quiet about.

 

Luhan is the Chinese trainee the Korean ones bully least. He’s something exotic to them: soft double-lidded eyes, dainty rose petal lips, and a nose just above the cutoff for Lee Soo Man’s “gift.”

 

 _How could such a delicious specimen be Chinese?_ they wonder, whisper.

But Sehun isn’t _that_ shallow. He knows Luhan is objectively handsome, but he also knows that there’s more to his attraction. In a foreign country, hundreds of miles from home, Luhan is a glimmer of hope for the other Chinese trainees. They know that if Luhan can charm the Koreans who saw their people as inferior, maybe someday, they can, too.

Sehun knows it’s good to keep him around—not for social gain, but as a friend.

 

 

#

 

 

The opportunity to befriend Luhan presents itself during a lull in dance practice. The instructor tells the class to take five, frustrated that the trainees struggle to stay in sync. They break off into their usual cliques: Sehun lies on the cold floor with Jongin; the other Korean trainees sit in a circle; and Luhan walks to the corner Yifan, Yixing, and Zitao claimed as their own.

 

The four of them converse in Mandarin, and Sehun can’t help but to listen. He doesn’t understand a word they’re saying but the bouncy, almost musical vowels are so different to Korean’s precise consonants. He’s infatuated, especially with the way the words roll smoothly in Luhan’s clear voice.

 

So unlike his noisy lisp.

 

Zitao laughs loudly at something Yifan clips out, but clams up fast when one of the Korean trainees— _Taewon,_ Sehun recalls—looks over with disgust.

 

“Pipe down, will ya? Bunch of seagulls, I swear.”

 

Yifan glares at him. Seagulls, really? Usually he’d ignore something so trivial, having heard worse at SM, but Zitao was obviously shaken; cat eyes wide even as Yixing rubs his arm to comfort him.

 

“Taewon-ge,” Luhan projects, his nearly-perfect Korean too loud to ignore, “you should apologize to Zitao. That wasn’t very nice.”

 

Taewon laughs, ugly and loud. “That’s Taewon- _hyung_ to you. Did trying to act manly make you forget your Korean? Too distracted trying to save your little Chinese bride?”

 

Sehun stiffens; can only watch as Jongin inhales and sits up when they realize the bigotry behind Taewon’s words.

 

“Taewon-hyung,” only Sehun knows him well enough to note that the breathiness in Jongin’s voice is from nerves, not tiredness. “I don’t know why you’re being so rude, but you should cut it out. I get that today’s practice is stressful, but you shouldn’t take it out on them.”

 

Taewon looks Jongin up and down, sneering. “You know, I’d get up from my spot if I ever had to fight _SM’s_ _Golden Boy._ But all I see is a black loser.”

 

Jongin’s expression crumples (he feels dirty, _too dark_ , like his friends used to say)—Sehun notices and gets up to comfort him. He drapes an arm over Jongin’s shoulder to lead him out of the practice room, but not before saying a few words of his own.

 

“You’re bullying people who don’t deserve it, hyung." Some trainees giggle at his lisp, but that’s the least of his concerns at this point. "There are better ways to let your anger out than being racist or pointing out people’s insecurities. I hope you know that.”

 

The two of them hastily turn around, nearly bumping into their dance instructor standing in the doorway, wide-eyed. Before they walk out, Sehun looks back and smiles at Zitao. He’s surprised to see the three Chinese hyungs smile back.

 

When Sehun and Jongin return to the practice room, Taewon is gone—sent back to the dorms by the instructor, one of the trainees explain. The rest of them dance until nightfall.

 

 

#

 

 

Sehun sprawls across the floor with Jongin again, eyes closed. He opens them when someone clears their throat, and nearly chokes on his spit when he sees Luhan, Yifan, Yixing, and Zitao looming above him.

 

“Ah!” Sehun bounds up to bow. The squeak of his shoes echo across the room and Jongin winces.

 

Luhan laughs, mouth so wide his chin seems to disappear. “It’s just us, don’t worry.” He fist bumps Jongin as he stands, and Sehun takes note to interrogate his friend about that casual interaction later.

 

“I’ve hung out with Jongin before,” Luhan states.

 

Was his curiosity that obvious? “Oh, that’s cool, hyung.”

 

Zitao snickers. “Wow, Lu-ge, he actually figured out that you’re older than him.”

 

“Yah, brat!” Luhan swats at him. Zitao dodges the hit and leans into Yifan, who looks over, but doesn’t move back.

 

“You,” Yixing pokes Zitao’s cheek, “should take lessons from Sehun. At least some people know their place.”

 

Luhan clears his throat again, and the playful energy around them dissipates. “What you guys did earlier was pretty brave, standing up to a hyung like that. Thank you.”

 

“Yeah thanks, for real. You could tell they were pretending not to hear Taewon’s ugly voice.” Zitao's Korean is halting and hesitant, Sehun notes.

 

“It was nothing,” Jongin waves a hand. “’Hun really stepped up when my own butt needed backup.”

 

“I’m not even sure I would’ve said anything at all if it weren't for Jongin.”

 

Yifan whistles, low and drawn out. “Honest _and_ handsome. A good combo, right Han?”

 

Both Luhan and Sehun blush. It’s Luhan who speaks first, ignoring everyone’s prying eyes. “Anyways, apparently everyone here except me already knows you. I don’t think that’s fair. Name’s Han, but—”

 

“Call you Luhan,” Sehun cuts in, grinning. “I know. You made sure everyone knew that on your first day. Nice to meet you, by the way.” It’s true—Sehun is ecstatic to finally be able to talk to the _special Chinese trainee_ everyone gossips about.

 

Luhan pinks again, to their laughter. “’Xing, you were wrong. I can already tell Tao and Sehun are going to be awful together.”

 

 

#

 

 

The day the lineup for SM’s new boy group is finalized, Sehun files into a practice room with the rest of EXO-K, lining up to greet EXO-M. He recognizes every trainee, having eaten lunch with each of them at least once. Sehun takes comfort that Luhan, Yifan, Yixing, and Zitao aren’t forced into a group with Taewon or any of the other trainees that bullied them. He’s also grateful that Jongin is debuting with him—not only as _SM’s Golden Boy_ , but also as his friend.

 

What shocks him out of his relief is the sight of Jongdae before him, cat smile tinged with disappointment. Minseok, to Jongdae’s left, doesn’t even try to hide his unhappiness—a sharp contrast to the beaming Luhan besides him.

 

It’s Sehun who speaks up first. “Jongdae-hyung, Minseok-hyung, you’re the two Koreans they chose for the Chinese team?”

 

Jongdae nods, shrugging. “They said EXO-M needed more variety in its vocal color, and that we were good enough to fill the slots.”

 

Minseok’s frown deepens, marring his soft face further. “What they really meant is that we weren’t good enough for EXO-K.”

 

Both Jongdae and Sehun gasp. At this, Luhan turns to Minseok and scoffs in mock offense. “Well if you didn’t want to stick with me you could’ve just said so.”

 

“You know I didn’t mean it like that.” He sighs. “I don’t even know if I feel cheated or worried. Maybe more of the latter. ’Dae and I don’t even know Mandarin. I’m just rambling now. I’m sorry.”

 

“No, I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have joked about something like that. It isn’t the best situation for either of you, but debuting is debuting, right?”

 

Minseok nods, frown easing out as Jongdae rubs his shoulder.

 

Luhan looks warmly at the both of them. “I’ll work hard to make sure you guys don’t feel left behind. And you know,” he smirks, “I only joked because I love seeing you blush, _Baozi_.”

 

Sehun quirks a brow at this exchange, watches Minseok flush while Luhan points and laughs with Jongdae, but drops the nagging feeling at the back of his head. Instead, he glances over the rest of the lines and spots the guilt in some of his bandmates’ eyes. Across the room, Yixing bows to Baekhyun, who returns the gesture with an apologetic smile. Besides them, Junmyeon and Yifan exchange curt nods. Sehun tenses at this. He just wants them all to get along.

 

Luhan notices the subtle shift in Sehun’s posture and walks up to him, placing a hand on his back.

 

“Hey,” his voice is soft—anxious yet excited. “I’m worried about the dynamics too, you know. But we’ve worked too hard for this opportunity. We’ll be okay.”

 

Sehun lets out a breath he didn’t know he was holding. “Thanks, hyung. You’re right.”

 

Luhan smiles, lines aging his face, but still so handsome.

 

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Please leave comments regarding anything! Talking to people is how I really get motivated and get my creative juices flowing. Until next time :)


	2. 2012

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> What Luhan says next has him reeling. “I don’t even know if I should say this,” he swallows. “But you waited too long. I’m sorry.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> WHEW this chapter drained my soul. Fellas, it's only downhill from here.
> 
> Once again, thank you K!!!! I love you uwu

January brings double-edged news. The twelve of them will debut in April, but that also means EXO-M will move to new dorms in China soon after their debut showcase. They always knew SM’s plan was to split EXO in two. Even the original codenames, M1 and M2, hinted at their concept about the two moons. _No, two suns. Mirror worlds? Red Force—_

 

Sehun groans and flops onto his bed. Sure, their concept is a lot to remember, but how can they convincingly act as one when their dorm has a perpetually awkward haze? Image training taught them when to smile and where to put idle hands, but it sure as hell skipped over how to make friends.

 

A knock on the door snaps Sehun out of his reverie. “Junmyeon-hyung?”

 

“Yeah, it’s just me. Can I come in?”

 

“It’s your room, too.”

 

Junmyeon strides into the undersized room. He sits on his own bed, facing Sehun, and clicks his teeth. “Something’s bothering you. Want to talk about it?”

 

“Well, it’s a lot. And I kind of already talked to Luhan about it.”

 

“I’ve got all night. Besides, sometimes we need to let things out more than once.”

 

Sehun takes a deep breath. “You’re right.

 

“I’m scared.”

 

The words come out a lot more desperately than he wants them to. “Actually—no. Yeah. I’m scared.”

 

Junmyeon moves to sit on Sehun’s bed, and Sehun shifts for him. They sit side by side, Junmyeon with an arm slung over his shoulder.

 

“It’s not that I’m regretting this.”

 

“I didn’t think that, Sehun.”

 

“It’s just that—” he takes another deep breath. “I know we have to fake ourselves to a point, but how can we do that if we’re not comfortable around each other’s real selves?”

 

A bitter chuckle. Sehun is surprised to hear such a noise from Junmyeon.

 

“I get that. There’s always people calling SM idols plastic, so it’d be great if the package we sold was as genuine as possible, right?”

 

“Yeah, exactly. Thanks, hyung.”

 

“No problem. Obviously the twelve of us are still a work in progress, but we’ll get there.” Junmyeon gives him a warm smile, welcoming on his pleasant, open face. “You can always find me when something’s bothering you.”

 

“They made a good choice for EXO’s leader, and with your stage name too, Suho.”

 

Junmyeon shoves him, but his smile widens. “Yah, you’re just flattering your hyung for future favors now, aren’t you?”

 

“No, I’m serious.” Sehun places a hand on his chest, speaking solemnly. “At first, I thought your gentlemanliness was some sort of shell you constructed after training for so long, but Baekhyun is right. You’re like a mother hen, watching over her chicks in her quiet, proud way.” He leans over to whisper in Junmyeon’s ear. “ _Cluck cluck.”_

 

Junmyeon’s mouth creases in disgust, but he shakes his head fondly as Sehun guffaws. “Aish, I guess this is what happens to the maknae when all his hyungs are brats.”

 

Sehun wipes at his eyes, teary from laughing. “I’ll pretend to be offended by that, for your sake.”

 

“In all seriousness, though, don’t worry too much. That’s _my_ job, and I’m sure I’ll get plenty of help with that from Kris.”

 

“Thanks for the talk. It really did help.”

 

Junmyeon ruffles Sehun’s hair then stands to leave, and Sehun follows for a quick hug.

 

“Wow, hyung. Did you get shorter?”

 

“I need to have a talk with Baek and Loey, don’t I?”

 

 

#

 

 

Sehun wakes the next morning to sizzling. The smell of kimchi fried rice makes his mouth water, so he creeps out of bed to find Kyungsoo standing over the stove, humming softly. Kyungsoo looks over his shoulder, wide eyes crinkling as he grins. “Oh, hey. Food’s almost done. Have a seat and I’ll serve you.”

 

Sehun nods in thanks, sitting at the rickety table in their kitchen. Only a few seconds of awkward silence pass before Zitao sits joins and sits across from him.

 

“Ah, Sehunnie! And Kyung-hyung.” Zitao giggles. “Can I call you that?”

 

Kyungsoo frowns, plush lips pouting. “Sit down and hush if you want breakfast.”

 

“But Kyung-hyung,” Zitao draws out the last vowel, whining. “Suho-hyung said we needed to be more comfortable around each other.”

 

Sehun freezes. _Oh, I must’ve worried him a lot if he brought it up while I was asleep._

Kyungsoo rolls his eyes, focused on his cooking. Zitao huffs at the lack of response and stands up dramatically, chair legs scraping the floor. He strides over to Kyungsoo and wraps his arms around the shorter man’s waist. “Be comfortable with me.”

 

Kyungsoo goes rigid. Wordlessly, he elbows Zitao in the stomach. Hard. Sehun gasps when Zitao doubles over, smile shaky on his face, but eyes obviously slick with tears as he stumbles out of the kitchen. Sehun and Kyungsoo make eye contact, the former with bated breath, the latter never stopping his stirring.

 

“Hm. I shouldn’t have done that. I feel bad. I panicked.”

 

From one of the rooms, they hear Zitao crying in Mandarin. All they can make out is a loud _Duizhang!_

Yifan replies in Korean—probably for the benefit of their dorm audience. “Maybe if you hadn’t hugged him like he was your wife, he wouldn’t have reacted so suddenly.”

 

A door slam. “Wife?” Stomps. Knocking. “Lu-ge!” More Mandarin, from the both of them. By this time, the commotion draws out the remaining members to their cramped kitchen. Kyungsoo hands them each a plate of kimchi fried rice.

 

Chanyeol speaks first, cheeks puffed. “Wow, this is amazing.”

 

Kyungsoo beams.

 

 “So ’Soo,” Baekhyun yawns, “what’s with all the ruckus?”

 

“I may have overreacted.”

 

From his seat, Jongin snickers. “You, overreacting? You sure you weren’t talking about Tao?”

 

Sehun laughs with Jongin, despite his trepidation over the entire situation. The other members join in, but the laughter dies down when Luhan strides into the kitchen, face serious, Zitao in tow.

 

“Did you really elbow Zitao in the gut?”

 

Kyungsoo looks up from his plate of fried rice, eyes guilty. “Yeah, I did. It wasn’t the right thing to do.” He stands and bows his head. “I’m sorry.”

 

Zitao gawks. “Hyung, you don’t have to bow. I really did push some boundaries.”

 

“But,” Luhan cuts in. “That didn’t mean he needed to get hurt, right?”

 

Kyungsoo nods.

 

“Really,” Zitao cups Kyungsoo’s hands in his own. The latter tenses again, but his shoulders droop as he visibly relaxes. “I forgive you. But I didn’t mean to make you uncomfortable—I really did just want to get closer to you.”

 

Sehun rolls his eyes affectionally. “Ah, there are better ways than random skinship.” He turns to Luhan, whose delicate face is still rigid with confrontation. “Hyung, everything’s okay.”

 

Luhan’s glare softens, followed by the set of his jaw, then his posture. “Yeah, you’re right. I guess I overreacted, too.” He moves to stand in front of everyone. “I’m sorry.”

 

“Now, now, enough theatrics.” Minseok walks up to him. “You still haven’t eaten and practice is starting soon.” He guides Luhan to their tiny table and pulls out a chair for him. Yixing slides over his plate to share.

 

The twelve of them fall into breakfast chatter, Korean and Mandarin side-by-side—not completely mingling, but an improvement over the silence Sehun almost got used to.

 

He can’t help the pang of jealousy when Minseok whispers into Luhan’s ear, hand tenderly squeezing the latter’s bicep.

 

 

#

 

 

January blurs into February, until Sehun’s only indicator of time is the weeks left until their showcase. EXO-K spends twelve hours each day perfecting their performances, and even though Sehun doesn’t have many lines, his throat still tingles at the end of each session. He can only imagine the strain the others—especially Baekhyun and Kyungsoo—go through.

 

Tonight, their instructor ends practice twenty minutes early. _A reward_ , he announces. _For the best SM has to offer._ The members eye each other, not knowing to be grateful for the extra downtime, or feel even more pressured with the compliment.

 

Sehun decides to check out EXO-M in the practice room next door, while the rest head back to the dorm. He slips inside as the group finishes up a run-through of “Mama,” backs to the door, chests heaving in the mirror reflections. Luhan gives Sehun a smile when their eyes meet.

 

After four more run-throughs, the instructor curtly wraps up for the night. Sehun notes that they don’t receive a closing compliment, and that when they bow, it’s uniform and tight—EXO-K’s bow definitely needs more work.

  
Sehun stands by the door and greets each member as they walk out, until Luhan is the only one left. He stops before Sehun, grinning.

 

“How do you feel about a little late-night excursion?”

 

“W-what do you mean?” _Is this a date?_

 

“I mean, let’s get ourselves a treat. Just the two of us.”

 

 

#

 

 

They jog up to the nearest convenience store in heavy winterwear, cheeks flushed and breath fogging the automatic glass doors.

 

Sehun tells himself he’s blushing because of the cold and exertion. He almost believes it, but Luhan is too beautiful; eyes sparkling as he gapes at the cheap snacks lining the shelves.

 

“’Hun, I’m in heaven.”

 

Sehun bursts into laughter, ignoring the look the clerk gives them. “If heaven gives us acne and undoes all the hard work we put into our abs, then lock me out.”

 

A huff. “Don’t be a party pooper and  _live!_ ” Luhan gestures to the aisles. “Tell you what. You can pick out whatever you want—within budgetary reason of course—and hyung will treat you.”

 

Sehun beams. “Really?”

 

“Of course.”

 

“Then get me some bubble tea.”

 

 

#

 

 

The SM building is only a few blocks away, but the two of them keep a leisurely, slow pace. Sehun sips his drink contently, Luhan munching on Pepero beside him.

 

There’s a speck of chocolate on Luhan’s bottom lip, Sehun notices. _Screw bubble tea._ He wants to taste that bit of sweetness on plush, slightly-chapped lips; maybe have Luhan bite one end of a stick and him the other as they tilt their heads, nibbling so they can inch their faces closer, kissing in the glow of shop lights—

 

“Sehun?”

 

They stop walking.

 

“What?”

 

“You’re staring.”

 

“O-oh.”

 

Luhan’s eyes are so brown, shining with the streetlights and storefronts, and Sehun feels so _small_ as he spots his own reflection in the irises.

 

Luhan sighs. He takes a breath and steps closer to Sehun. There’s some tension in his shoulders, and a glimmer of something ( _uncertainty?_ ) in his stare—he’s bashful, almost, and that has Sehun’s heart hammering in his ears. “Sehun,” his voice is delicate; tentative, “is there something you want to tell me?”

 

Sehun swallows. He should confess. Out in the streets, just the two of them and night’s brisk air, he should confess and lean in for a soft kiss. Maybe they can slip into something label-less but sufficient in the weeks before EXO-M has to leave for China. Instead, he reaches out and swipes a thumb over Luhan’s lips. “You just had a bit of chocolate on your face. It’s all gone now.” He wipes his finger on his jeans then starts walking again, pace doubled from earlier. “C’mon, hyung. It’s getting late.”

 

_No, you idiot!_

 

Sehun wants to turn back, to grab Luhan’s hand and take him to the nearest park for another confession attempt, but his legs won’t listen. Behind him, Luhan bites his lip, eyes fixed to the sidewalk. He blinks away the pricks in his eyes before looking up and plastering on his idol smile.

 

“Yah, don’t just leave me like that!” His voice echoes loudly around them. Both he and Sehun ignore the fragile quiver running through it.

 

 

#

 

 

They don’t go out again after that.

 

They still talk in social situations, but when it’s just the two of them (which is admittedly rare in a dorm of twelve boys), there’s always something convenient one or the other has that keeps them apart. Now that the twelve of them have started practicing together for their joint debut performances, it’s harder for Sehun to steer clear of Luhan, or vice versa. He’s sure the others notice.

 

After Sehun excuses himself from the practice room at the sight of Luhan sitting alone, Jongin corners him in the hallway.

 

“Okay, you guys should really fix up whatever’s going on between you two.”

 

“I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

 

Jongin rubs at his temple. “Don’t play dumb, ’Hun. Be grateful it’s me bringing this up, not Junmyeon or Baek or any other hyung. You know they wouldn’t let you off so easily.”

 

“Yeah, you’re right. I’ve been letting this go for too long, huh?”

 

“I guess. Technically, Luhan’s at fault, too, but he’s a hyung. It’s easier to talk to you. And,” Jongin leans towards him conspiratorially, “between him and you, I like you better. Don’t tell.”

 

Sehun giggles, despite himself. “Oh, Nini, I can always count on you. But why now? It’s been weeks.”

 

“Well,” Jongin hesitates. “I guess I’ll come clean, then.”

 

Sehun doesn’t like the sound of that.

 

“Junmyeon was the one who set me up to this. He knew I’d get through to you better.”

 

“I take offense to that. I respect him as EXO’s leader, you know.”

 

“No, dummy.” Jongin punches his shoulder playfully. “As in he knows that we’re close, so he asked me to tell you.”

 

“Tell me what?”

 

“EXO-M are leaving for China in a week.”

 

Sehun can’t speak for a moment. He wants to scream, but he won’t—Jongin already looks worried enough. “But March just started.”

 

Jongin slings an arm over him, looking over with an apologetic smile. “I know. I guess the company wants them to have more time to adjust in the China dorms, but they’ll be back for final showcase preparations. The leaders found out today, and they’re going to tell the rest tomorrow. Junmyeon figured it would help if you knew earlier.”

 

“Help how? I could’ve had an extra day of not being sad and stressed.”

 

“You have a week, Sehunnie. And you’re already sad and stressed about not patching things up with Luhan. Don't act like Junmyeon and I can’t see it.”

 

Sehun tenses. “S-see what?”

 

“Don’t worry,” Jongin laughs, “your secret is safe with me.”

 

“How can it be with you when I never gave it to you?” Sehun pouts. Was he really _that_ obvious?

 

Jongin grins. “I’m your best friend for a reason. I doubt anyone else knows. Now go apologize and maybe kiss him, too.”

 

 

#

 

 

Sehun mulls over Jongin’s words for a few days. He helps the EXO-M members pack, including Luhan, who gives him a careful, but grateful smile when he offers. He decides to speak to Luhan exactly thirty days after their snack run. _Better sooner than later_. The days before the showcase would be too hectic for sure.

 

The day is routine: wake up, image training, practice. After they wrap up “History,” their instructor gives them a break. Sehun sits on the trusty floor as EXO-M sits with him—sans Luhan and Minseok, who go to the bathroom together.

 

“Well, well,” Yifan drawls, “Suho told me you had an important mission to do.”

 

“Yeah, I realized with you guys leaving so soon, I needed to patch things up with Luhan.”

 

Zitao quirks a brow. “Wow, direct. I like that.”

 

Jongdae snickers. “Taozi, you like any man that shows a shred of dominance.”

 

Zitao blushes but puffs his chest. “Mock me all you want, but there’s only one man for me.”

 

“Oh, really?” Yixing smirks, dimples contrasting his playful stare. “Would that be anyone in this room?”

 

That shuts Zitao up. He sulks and sticks his tongue out at Yixing, who ruffles his hair affectionately. Yifan looks at them both—eyes hard and jaw tight, Sehun notes.

 

The conversation winds down as Luhan and Minseok return and practice resumes. When practice ends, Sehun stands by the door to tell each person goodbye. Junmyeon and Jongin both give him a thumbs up, the former oblivious to the latter’s wink.

 

Luhan and Minseok are the last to leave. As Minseok walks out, Luhan follows, but Sehun reaches out and clasps his wrist with a tiny _wait._ Minseok turns, giving them both a questioning look. Luhan waves him off, but not before pulling his arm from Sehun’s hold.

 

“What's up?”

 

Even after a month of avoidance, Luhan still gives him a welcoming smile. Sehun’s heart lurches. He gulps and takes a deep breath. “I want to tell you something.”

 

“Hm, I guess it’s a big deal, since you waited until everyone was gone.”

 

“You could say that, yeah.” Sehun clears his throat, clenches his fists, unfurls them, looks right into Luhan’s eyes— _no, don’t do that_ —before fixating on a spot above his shoulder.

 

“What’s wrong? No pressure or anything, but if you’re not comfortable—”

 

“No, I have to tell you now. Before you leave.”

 

“Oh.”

 

“Can I kiss you?”

 

“What?”

 

Sehun feels like he’s going to unravel. He most certainly did _not_ plan on saying that. But there’s no going back now—he steps closer into Luhan’s space and straightens his posture. “Luhan-hyung, can I kiss you?”

 

Luhan doesn’t respond, but Sehun watches how his brows furrow deeper, how his cheeks slowly flush as he licks his lips.

 

_Fuck it._

 

Sehun surges forward and aligns his lips with Luhan’s. Miraculously, their teeth don’t clack, but Luhan immediately wraps both of his arms around Sehun’s neck for balance. Their bodies press flush together, and Sehun hesitates before setting his hands on the other’s waist. He licks along Luhan’s bottom lip until they’re panting into each other’s mouths, tongues sliding slick. Luhan pulls on his hair— _fuck—_ as Sehun rubs his thigh against his crotch, and he lets out a breathy moan as he ruts against Sehun and  _damn, sweaty Luhan smells so good—_

 

It’s only a few seconds until Luhan pushes Sehun and turns away. Wait— _Luhan is pushing away._

 

Sehun doesn’t know whether to laugh or cry, so he stares at the wooden floors instead. He sees Luhan approaching from his peripheral but can’t bring himself to look up. It’s Luhan who gently cups his chin and lifts his head up, and he’s shocked to see Luhan’s eyes are the ones glistening.

 

“Oh, ’Hunnie.”

 

Sehun finally registers the white noise of the A/C, the lights, and realizes that Luhan is waiting until he’s ready. He feels irrational anger flare up inside of him. He doesn’t want Luhan’s pity. He doesn’t want to feel the shame of misreading months of friendly interactions. Sehun wants to turn and walk out, but he can’t. He can’t hurt Luhan more than he already has, and this level of whipped-for-Luhan dissipates the heat inside him.

 

“I-I’m sorry, hyung. I forced myself onto you. I don’t even know if you like guys. I’m so selfish. I’m so sorry.” He tells himself that he’s ready for the rejection, for Luhan to act like he doesn’t exist. It wouldn’t be the first time a friend showed disgust for his _preference._

 

“I do.”

 

Sehun doesn’t expect that. “Huh?”

 

“I like guys _and_ girls. It’s not easy, I know.” Luhan takes a breath. “A few days ago, Minnie—Minseok—told me he liked me. I kissed him. He... kissed back. We’re taking it slow, but we want to see where it’ll go.”

 

Sehun nods. He can take this rejection, but what Luhan says next has him reeling. “I don’t even know if I should say this,” he swallows. “But you waited too long. I’m sorry.”

 

 

#

 

 

Things between Sehun and Luhan smooth out, as much as they can within a few days. They both agree their friendship is too important to lose over a kiss, especially after their month of awkwardness. Everything should be okay, but healing takes time. Sehun knows this. Luhan should, too.

 

He doesn’t hate Minseok, but he’s definitely jealous—Minseok didn’t know he had competition, but now he gets to spend his career by Luhan’s side, hundreds of miles away from Sehun. How would it have turned out if Sehun was the one chosen for EXO-M instead? If he was the one who needed to take Mandarin classes, wrangle with foreign sounds, surround himself with foreigners, just to be with Luhan? He could’ve spent more time with Luhan under the guise of perfecting the language, could’ve grown closer to him.

 

Sehun knows he’s being irrational, but he allows himself to be. After all, most of his anger is directed to himself.  _Waited too long_.

 

It hurts, but it explains everything well enough.

 

 

#

 

 

Luhan and Minseok stand in the center of the living room, the rest of EXO on the floor or crammed onto the couch as their audience.

 

Sehun can’t believe they outed themselves already. _What happened to taking it slow?_ He’s still recovering from Luhan’s simultaneous rejection and admission of past feelings. At the very least, he has Jongin, who rubs small circles on his back, apologetic look on his face.

 

“Well,” Chanyeol mutters. “I guess this is better than a dating scandal with a female idol or non-celebrity.” Baekhyun yanks his ear, and he winces in pain. “Ouch! What the heck, Baek?”

 

“Insensitive, much?” Chanyeol looks away, guiltily, and Baekhyun tilts his head. “Thought so.”

 

“So just how many of us likes dudes then?”

 

Yifan shakes his head. “Taozi, there are more pressing matters to attend to. Like how our managers will react when they find out about this.”

 

Beside him, Junmyeon winces. “Actually, it’s more a matter of _if_.”

 

Yifan pinches the bridge of his nose. “Suho, what exactly are you insinuating?”

 

“We obviously can’t reveal this to our fans. We’d be over before we even debut.”

 

Chanyeol rolls his eyes. “Got that right.” Another yank. “Ouch!”

 

“But,” Junmyeon continues, “we don’t know how our managers will take it, either. What if they pull ’Han and Min from the lineup?”

 

“Then maybe they shouldn’t have—”

 

Junmyeon gives him a look.

 

“—alright. We’ll hold off, I guess.” He glares at Luhan and Minseok. “Another pressing matter is why you two decided to drop this the day before EXO-M leaves for China.”

 

Luhan—Sehun admits—looks a little worse for wear. Stressed. Scared. But his voice is sharp and strong.

 

“We’ve just been so busy. You know this, ’Fan. Everything’s moving so fast.”

 

Minseok nods. “It’s not like we planned to give more stress to either of you guys. It just... happened.” He blushes as Luhan leers at him.

 

Both Baekhyun and Chanyeol make gagging noises. The others laugh, and Sehun is relieved that the members are more concerned about timing than two men dating.

 

He’ll be okay.

 

 

#

 

 

 _EXO’s debut went pretty well,_ Sehun thinks.

 

Every inch of his body is soaked in sweat, and he’s panting, hand on his knees backstage, but he’s satisfied. He’s running on twenty hours of sleep accumulated over the past five days—once the EXO-M members returned from China, all their cellphones were confiscated, and they fully immersed themselves into practicing for EXO’s debut showcase.

 

Their showcase attracts 8,000 fans, which is a number so many groups can only dream of. Sehun feels accomplished—even though Leeteuk’s hosting is mostly scripted, he gathers the group together after the show and tells them how proud he is to see them work so hard.  _You’re SM’s future now,_ he announces after bowing to them.

 

While the words are still heavy, Sehun is eager to prove that SM’s future is a good one. From the excitement bouncing over the room, he sees the others share his drive.

 

 

#

 

 

The morning EXO-M leaves for China again flies by too fast. Sehun volunteers to help them load their bags, and Yifan gives him a fond smile. Once all the luggage is in the van the rest of the boys come out to say goodbye. They exchange hugs, and—from Zitao, mostly—tears. Sehun makes sure to hug everyone, and briefly entertains hugging Luhan the longest. He drops the idea when he sees Luhan and Minseok holding hands tightly. It’s cute, how they’ve become a support system, but sometimes he still thinks about the _what if_.

 

This is one of those times. When Luhan hugs him, Sehun expects it to be over in a breath. But Luhan holds him tight—a warmth he savors until Minseok clears his throat.

 

“C’mon, Lu. You’re the only one we’re waiting on.”

 

Luhan lets go abruptly with a forced laugh. “Oh, yeah. Sorry. Goodbyes are rough, you know?” He climbs into the van without looking back, as Minseok and the others wave one last time before closing the tinted doors.

 

Sehun doesn’t miss the confusion in their eyes. He turns back and heads into the dorm; ignores the questioning looks of the remaining members.

 

He didn’t imagine how Luhan pressed against his body; how electrifyingly long their hug was.

 

 

#

 

 

The dorm is a little quieter without the other six, but they adapt quickly. The six of them talk less, but only because they’re so tired, balancing photoshoots and interviews with grueling music shows. Most of their free time is spent sleeping.

 

During a particularly eventless Sunday, Junmyeon rounds them up into the living room.

 

“Everyone, it’s bonding time.”

 

He takes his old laptop and hooks it up to their small TV, and after some minutes of fiddling and loading (“He’s bad with technology—it’s a mom thing,” Baekhyun quips) he pulls up a _Happy Camp_ episode. “EXO-M was on this show recently, and since we haven’t seen those boys in a while, I thought we could watch this. It’s also a great excuse to practice our Mandarin; thank heavens for subtitles, huh?”

 

Kyungsoo groans. “Aw, I thought we were going to watch a movie.”

 

Chanyeol points to the rooms. “You can always leave, you know.”

 

“No,” Junmyeon snaps. He smiles sharply. “Sit down, everyone. The show’s about to start.”

 

They gather in front of the TV just as the group starts performing “History.” Everything seems peachy until they get to the individual member introductions. Yifan is charismatic— _of course_ —and Zitao wins everyone over with his shy stumbles. The hosts fawn over their local celebrity Yixing, and Luhan is gentlemanly as ever. Jongdae’s time is considerably shorter, but he still manages to charm the audience despite his limited grasp of Mandarin.

 

Sehun feels especially sorry for Minseok, who speaks a single line before the hosts move on to other topics. He realizes had he been chosen for EXO-M, he’d be in Jongdae’s situation, or—even worse—Minseok’s.

 

Minseok is lucky to have Luhan with him in times like this. Sehun knows that, and it makes the ache in his chest a little lighter.

 

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Please leave comments regarding anything! Talking to people is how I really get motivated and get my creative juices flowing. Until next time :)


	3. 2013

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> It’d be so easy to blame Yifan for it all, but Sehun knows they’ve all contributed to the tension.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Some Hunhan smut, some Taoris action, and plenty of Yifan-centered drama. Poor Sehun just wants to get over his crush but boy, does everything around him make it hard, including Luhan himself.
> 
> Let us all praise K, my trusty beta.

The door rattles and Sehun looks up from where he’s sitting on his bed. There’s no way Junmyeon is back from the store that quickly, and he’s right—it’s Luhan who steps into the room, towel slung loosely over his hips. Beads of water drip from Luhan’s hair, running over sharp collarbones, dusky nipples, and faint abs. Sehun eyes one as it slides down his happy trail and disappears under his towel.

 

He gulps. “Hyung, did you need something?”

 

Luhan shuts the door behind him. “You could say that.”

 

“Huh?”

 

“Well you see,” Luhan saunters over to him. “I have this problem.” He pouts, climbing onto Sehun’s bed. “Usually I’d ask Minseokkie to help me,” he pushes Sehun down and hovers over his body, “but I can’t find him anywhere. He’s probably back in China.”

 

The mention of Minseok flares something ugly inside of Sehun; so much that he ignores the last statement. He moves Luhan so their positions are flipped—Luhan on his back, breathless as Sehun braces himself above him. Then he leans down to whisper against Luhan’s ear, pleased at the shiver he elicits when he nibbles on Luhan’s earlobe.

 

“I doubt there’s anything he does that I can’t do better.”

 

Luhan smirks predatorily and snakes a hand to his towel. “Then prove it.”

 

The towel falls open, and Sehun mouth waters as he stares at Luhan’s bare body from head to toe; watches his defined chest rise and fall and his flushed cock swell between pale, muscled thighs.

 

After a few seconds of absolutely nothing—Sehun is still so shocked—Luhan rolls his eyes and pulls Sehun down to kiss him. He moves his tongue sloppily until Sehun opens his mouth, and they kiss until their lips slide easily with each other’s spit. Sehun curls his fingers into fluffy locks— _wait, didn’t Luhan just come out of the shower?—_ and yanks, hard. Luhan moans, throaty and needy, and thrusts, grinding his cock against Sehun’s clothed bulge.

 

“Sehun, please.”

 

“Please what?” He kisses down Luhan’s neck and sucks over a particularly prominent vein.

 

Luhan arches, hips stuttering. “M-more. Please.”

 

Sehun obliges and wraps his long fingers around Luhan’s warm, heavy cock. He strokes it teasingly, feels it twitch when he pushes his thumb against the slit.

 

“Please, _what?_ ” Sehun’s lips curl. He’s eager to see just how far he can push him.

 

Luhan looks straight at him, eyes glinting mischievously and cheeks red. “Please, _hyung,_ ” he whines, “please let me come.”

 

Then, against all odds, Sehun comes, his vision blurring white.

 

 

#

 

 

Sehun opens his eyes to the door rattling and a frazzled Junmyeon striding into their room.

 

“Hyung, what’s wrong?”

 

Junmyeon sighs and leans against the door. “I just got off the phone with Yixing.”

 

“Is everything okay?”

 

It’s been ages since Sehun properly talked with Yixing, or anyone in EXO-M. Whenever they leave for China, the only contact they have with EXO-K is through brief texts or video calls. They’re all so busy, but that doesn’t make their absence less pronounced.

 

Maybe that’s why Sehun’s mind decided to torture him with a wet dream about Luhan. Of course, that doesn’t make him feel any less guilty. He shakes his head and sits up. _Not the time to angst over this._

 

Guilt lines Junmyeon’s face. “Well...”

 

“Is this about Kris?”

 

“…Yes.”

 

“How is he?”

 

“Not good.” Junmyeon turns to the door. “I’ll tell you with the rest of the boys once I wake them up. Dorm meeting in the living room in five—”

 

“Breathe.”

 

Junmyeon exhales, long and worn. He notices that he’s gripped the door handle so hard, his knuckles are blotched white. He relaxes but doesn’t let go.

 

Sehun stands and gives him a quick hug from behind. “I know you’re scared but remember—you’re our Suho-hyung. We have you by our side, and you have us.”

 

Junmyeon gives a tight-lipped smile. “Thank you, ’Hun. Really.” He straightens his posture, then walks out to wake the rest.

 

Sehun wants to smile, but grimaces when he finally notices a familiar sticky feeling.

 

He really did just comfort his leader with his boxers full of cum.

 

After changing into a new pair of boxers, Sehun flings himself over the couch, still somewhat groggy. He closes his eyes as he hears the others approaching. Maybe, if he stretches himself out, they won’t try to sit on the couch.

 

The footsteps echo until they’re right beside him. _There’s no way—_

Sehun yelps as a pair of arms hook under his shoulders, and again when another pair scoop his legs up. “Hey, I was sleeping!”

 

Chanyeol’s deep laughter rumbles in his ears. _Of course._ “Really? Didn’t fool me.”

 

“You should really take some acting lessons,” Baekhyun jokes as he grips Sehun’s shins.

 

They carry him away from the couch as Kyungsoo and Jongin sit in the middle. Sehun wants to wriggle free, but just before he tries to escape, Chanyeol and Baekhyun carry him back.

 

Sehun ends up laying over all four of them: his head in Chanyeol’s lap; midsection over Kyungsoo and Jongin; and feet at Baekhyun’s. It’s not the most comfortable surface, but Sehun doesn’t mind.

 

He feels loved.

 

He wants to savor the feeling more, but Junmyeon and one of their managers stand before them, all business.

 

“We have good news and bad news,” the manager starts. “Which one do you want to hear first?”

 

“It’s early, hyung,” Jongin whines. “Let’s just hear it, mkay? Anyone have a preference?”

 

Silence.

 

“Alright, good first. EXO-M and EXO-K will be promoting together for the next comeback. The company feels this is a good opportunity to ensure stronger visibility in both Korea and China.”

 

Sehun jerks in surprise and falls off his lap-seat.

 

“Ouch,” Baekhyun winces. “That looks like it hurt.”

 

He huffs and sits up. “Really, hyung? Never would’ve guessed.”

 

The manager clears his throat. “They’ll be returning to the dorm in a few weeks, around mid-February.”

 

“Aish,” Kyungsoo shakes his head. “Twelve people in this tiny dorm again? I guess all good things must come to an end.”

 

They laugh, except for Sehun. Combined promotions mean he’ll get to see more of Luhan, but also more of Luhan-and-Minseok. _Luseok? Xiuhan?_

Jongin gives him a little kick. “You might want to keep that mumbling to yourself.”

 

Sehun reddens. _Oops_.

Junmyeon takes a breath. “I guess I’ll deliver the bad news, then. I spoke with Yixing earlier to check in on EXO-M, and remember when Kris left for Canada to visit family? It’s been over a month and he still isn’t back.”

 

The manager nods, expression hard. “It’s been decided that waiting is no longer a wise choice. The group will start practicing for the title track without him.”

 

Baekhyun scowls. “EXO-M’s already recorded so much of the Chinese album without him. How can they be ready in time for the March comeback?”

 

“Exactly. Which is why the comeback will be moved to June.”

 

“Great!” Baekhyun laughs bitterly. “He might as well stay in Canada while we get someone else to cover his parts. How about ’Hun? He barely breathes in our songs and it's not like his Mandarin is any worse than Minseok’s.”

 

The atmosphere stiffens. Sehun feels helpless that a single person thousands of miles away has this much bearing over them. He looks at the members behind him, and they meet his gaze with equally-stressed looks.

 

It’s Chanyeol who diffuses the tension. “Baek, stop. I know you don’t mean that.”

 

Baekhyun refuses to look at him, but the quiver in his lip says enough. He shrinks into the couch, eyes fixed onto his lap. Chanyeol gives him a soft smile. “You have the right to be angry, but we also only know one side of the story. Right now, all we can do is make the best of the current situation.”

 

Baekhyun wipes at his eyes, nodding.

 

“Wow,” Junmyeon breathes out. “Didn’t know you had it in you, Yeol.”

 

Chanyeol grins. “You learn to deal with undersized brats when they cling to you 24/7.”

 

Said brat looks over with the ghost of his trademark smirk. “‘Undersized?’ Stop by tonight and I’ll—”

 

“Anyways,” Jongin cuts in. “What’s taking Kris so long? He knows there’s a comeback so why is he still in Canada?”

 

“Visa issues,” the manager replies curtly.

 

Junmyeon quirks a brow. Sehun can tell this is the first time he’s heard that and spots the doubt flickering through his features.

 

He can tell no one in the room believes it, not even Sehun himself.

 

 

#

 

 

EXO-M arrive as five, but that fact is quickly glossed over because they’re _back_. The members step out their van and head to the dorm, but they’re not even halfway to the door before it swings open and EXO-K come tumbling out. The boys end up in a brief, but hectic group hug that the managers cut short as they herd them inside ( _there are sasaengs even at night_ ). Before the hug dissipates, Sehun makes eye contact with Luhan. He smiles hesitantly, but widens it when Luhan beams from the start.

 

Once inside, Junmyeon brings out two six-packs of fancy soju. “Savor this, guys. Our last day off before the comeback diet kicks our butt.” The eleven of them make a loud toast, and Sehun tries to ignore the twelfth bottle of soju, unopened and alone on their small table.

 

After nursing his drink for a few minutes, Sehun looks around and spots Zitao stumbling into Yifan’s room. He turns away, and instead finds the sight of a flushed Minseok; pink from both the alcohol and the little kisses Luhan gives his puffy cheeks, his nose, and—finally—his lips.

 

The last straw is when Jongdae coos at them. It’s cute.

 

 _It hurts,_ Sehun realizes. _But it’s cute._

 

He needs to escape.

 

When Sehun walks into the dark room, he finds Zitao slumped on Yifan’s bed. He moves to turn on the light, but Zitao puts up a mostly-steady hand. From what little light seeps from the door, Sehun sees he’s been crying.

 

“Taozi, what’s wrong?”

 

“C-can you sit with me, please?”

 

Sehun walks over and shifts Zitao until he’s off the covers. Then he grabs the uppermost blanket and sits down next to him, wrapping their bodies in it. “There, how’s that?”

 

Zitao sniffles. “Cuddling? Who knew you were such a baby.”

 

“Who’s the one crying?”

 

“Point taken.”

 

Sehun snuggles closer. “We don’t have to talk, but I know you don’t like holding things in. And you’re definitely not drunk enough to just suddenly cry your eyes out.”

 

A shaky breath. “I miss him.”

 

 _Kris._ Sehun knows. Zitao doesn’t have to say it.

 

“We all do. It’s been so long since we’ve seen him.”

 

“I should be madder. We all miss our families, but you don’t see any of us dipping out for weeks.”

 

“That’s true.”

 

“It hurts not hearing from him for so long. When we found out we’d be going back to Korea, I thought the company had given up on waiting. I thought _he’d_ given up.” Almost inaudibly, “I thought he’d given up on _me._ ”

 

Sehun’s eyes widen. _Is he confessing?_

Zitao confirms this with a finger to his lips. “Pretend you never heard that.”

 

All Sehun can do is nod.

 

“I was the one who packed ’Fan-ge’s stuff, you know. I thought me doing it would somehow make him come back faster. God, I sound like a creep. I haven’t even told him but I was so scared I’d lost my chance.” He laughs sourly.

 

Sehun opens his mouth to speak, but Zitao hushes him, again. “It’s okay, ’Hun. You were right; I just needed to let this out. I already know I have to be strong.” He yawns, eyes fluttering shut. “Now nap with me.”

 

Zitao lies back suddenly, taking Sehun down with him. Sehun ends up being the big spoon; he’s not particularly sleepy, but he’ll stay for Zitao. It’s the least he can do.

 

Within a minute, Zitao is snoring beside him, oblivious to the ruckus from ten slightly-buzzed boys.

 

“Yo,” Luhan’s voice carries through the crack Sehun left in the door. “Where’s Sehun?”

 

“I saw him go into ’Fan’s room earlier with Tao,” Yixing responds.

 

“I see.”

 

Later, Sehun closes his eyes and pretends to be asleep when Minseok checks in on them. He doesn’t miss the bite in Luhan’s voice when he tells the latter to let them be.

 

 

#

 

 

It’s the day their comeback was originally scheduled for, and they’re running through “Wolf” for the tenth time. Thankfully, their instructor calls for a break.

 

“Finally,” Zitao groans. “If I have to hear _chogiwa_ one more time I’m going to strangle someone.”

 

Their instructor lets out a tense laugh. “Let’s hope our returning member won’t be in your line of fire then.”

 

The room freezes as the practice room door opens. As if on cue, Yifan walks in and stands in front of them, having the dignity to look a little sheepish. His long blond hair is gone—dyed black and buzzed off.

 

Sehun frowns. _Is that supposed to be a statement?_

 

“Hey, guys. I’m—”

 

Junmyeon cuts him off immediately. “How much of the dance do you know, Kris?”

 

“Not much.” Yifan purses his lips, tone light, but eyes lethal. “I watched the video the choreographer made a few times.”

 

“Well then,” Junmyeon cocks his head, voice cold and sharp. “Get in formation. We have all day for you to catch up.”

 

Sehun is scared. This is a side of Junmyeon— _Suho_ —none of members have seen before. The ten of them fix their eyes to the wooden floor, refusing to make eye contact with either leader.

 

“We’ll talk later,” Junmyeon spits out, signaling for the instructor to start the music again.

 

The squeak of Yifan’s shoes as he heads to the back is deafening.

 

The ride back to the dorm is quiet. Sehun can only imagine how much more awkward EXO-M’s van must be.

 

They’re all tired, but they silently gather in the living room—the topic of Yifan’s abrupt departure and equally-abrupt return looming heavily above them.

 

“So, Yifan-hyung,” Junmyeon starts. “Glad to see you’re back.”

 

Yifan chuckles, ugly and short. “Why, thank you. Nice to know I’m so welcomed.”

 

“Funny. Mind telling us all about your long vacation?”

 

“Let’s cut the crap.” Yifan glares at him, making sure to emphasize the several inches of height difference between them. “Didn’t the managers tell you? I had some visa issues to sort out.”

 

Junmyeon looks up, eyes equally hard. “How convenient that you had _visa issues_ right before our original comeback date.”

 

Sehun doesn’t miss the implications behind his statement, and it’s _harsh_. “Junmyeon-hyung?”

 

“What?”

 

“Isn’t that a little, I don’t know, accusatory?”

 

Yifan’s brows furrow. “Kid, are you defending me?”

 

“No, but I know fighting won’t help anything...”

 

The leaders, then everyone else, look at him. A heavy pause. He wants it to swallow him whole.

 

“’Hun’s right,” Minseok adds, noticing the anxiety building in Sehun’s eyes. “This matter applies to all of us, but if we’re just going to watch a catfight, don’t even bother talking to each other.”

 

 Disbelief flutters across the room.

 

“What? I’m the oldest. I can say that. Now hurry and patch things up.”

 

Junmyeon sighs. He sticks out a hand that Yifan eyes warily.

 

“I’m sorry, but I don’t want to hug you right now.”

 

Yifan scoffs but visibly cools down. “Alright, Suho. Let’s shake on it.”

 

 

#

 

 

Promoting “Wolf” is an exercise in duality. They’re on _Kiss the Radio_ , charming Ryeowook with the best SM’s image training has to offer: bright smiles, sharp jokes, and lingering touches in just the right places. Sehun even tries aegyo when he’s asked to.

 

Sehun is fine letting the others wrangle for attention over the radio, maintaining his best idol smile as he observes the boys around him. Hidden from the public’s prying lenses and eyes, the _group of brothers_ that worked so hard to debut together is splintering. Sehun is grateful the divides aren’t distinctly racial, but the fact that they’re distinctly Yifan-driven isn’t any better. It’s almost like the trainee cliques all over again.

 

It’d be so easy to blame Yifan for it all, but Sehun knows they’ve all contributed to the tension.

 

(Sehun remembers finding every kitchen seat taken one morning, except for those next to Yifan. He took one, but not before shooting looks at Jongin and Baekhyun, both leaned against the counter as they ate standing up. Chanyeol happily took the other, oblivious to Zitao’s jealous scowl.

 

Another memory is of Yifan rooting through the cupboards for a midnight snack. Sehun had the exact same plan but stood awkwardly in the kitchen doorway—in plain sight—until Luhan and Minseok stepped out with their ramyeon stash to treat their leader.

 

Sehun feels guiltiest for passively listening to the jabs some of them made while filming the drama version of “Wolf.” Admittedly, all the members wondered why the script had _Kris_ leaving their “pack.” It seemed too soon, but it was a convenient way to tell jokes that were nothing more than thinly-veiled insults:

 

_Wow, Kris is a method actor—isolating himself really paid off._

_Delaying the comeback was necessary to perfect his acting, obviously._

_Who needs EXO when actor Wu Yifan is going to end our careers?_

 

Sehun didn’t ever laugh, especially when Luhan, Yixing, and Zitao looked uncomfortable, at best.)

 

Even though he’s still wary over the vagueness of Yifan’s absence, he wants to respect him, too. He wants the members to respect and care about one another— _maybe love, even_ —and this drive guides the message he has to give them.

 

By the time it’s his turn to speak, Sehun’s throat is tight, his eyes pricking. _Oh no._ They’ll never let him live this down, but now is a great chance for all of them to _listen_.

 

“To all of the EXO members: before I go to sleep, I always pray. I pray and,” he pauses, voice thick.

 

Jongin laughs. “You pray. That’s it.” The others join in and Sehun wishes he could, too.

 

“Wait, sorry. Hold on.”

 

“Sehunnie,” Baekhyun teases, “what’s wrong?”

 

“He’s really about to cry,” Junmyeon gasps, half in concern and the other half in amusement.

 

“You can go slow,” Ryeowook gives him a sympathetic smile. “We have plenty of time.”

 

“You know,” Jongin adds, “Sehun really thinks a lot about the members.”

 

Ryeowook nods. “Even if he’s the youngest, our Sehun has a really deep heart. It’s hard being the youngest, having to be aware of your hyungs. Sehun, how do you feel?”

 

Sehun wipes his tears away. Yixing rubs his back, and he cries harder. “I really didn’t want to cry on broadcast.” He wipes his eyes again, then breathes in. “Guys, let’s rely on each other. Let’s not fight, and hope we can make it to the end happily.”

 

_I love you._

 

The members clap, varying degrees of emotion obvious on their faces. Sehun realizes he said the last part out loud, but it’s relieving, somehow. He means it, for the most part, and that uncoils all the tightness in his chest.

 

After the broadcast, the twelve of them trudge to their vans and ride back to the dorm. They barely squeeze in showers ( _no, Zitao, duizhang doesn’t want to shower with you tonight)_ and skincare routines before a few desperate hours of sleep.

 

Sehun slips into his bed, and prays silently, careful not to wake Junmyeon.

_It’s okay._ He ends his prayers with reassurance, but it’s mostly towards himself. _I love being in EXO._

 

Tonight, he believes it.

 

 

#

 

 

EXO’s first music show win comes in June. They win on Music Bank, and Junmyeon sobs into the mic, grateful for their fans’ support. If Sehun didn’t know how Junmyeon’s years of training wore him down, he would’ve laughed that he finally made his break with a song like “Wolf.”

 

Distaste aside, this is a milestone. The staff congratulates them backstage as the praise finally sinks in for the rest of the group. Yixing is the first to crack, blubbering when Luhan comforts him with sparkling eyes. Jongin cries, too, hiccups mixing with laughter while Taemin films him for future blackmail material.

 

Before changing, they pose for a group picture, thumbs up and glowing with pride. Sehun asks the photographer for a peek at the photo and is surprised at how familial the twelve of them look. He makes a note to save it onto his phone once it’s posted.

 

_Maybe someday we really will be the best SM has to offer._

 

 

#

 

 

Crash courses in Mandarin weren’t enough for Jongdae and Minseok, and they aren’t enough for EXO-K, either.

 

Both Sehun and Junmyeon ask Zitao for some conversation pointers in the days leading up to their _Happy Camp_ taping. Sehun would’ve asked Luhan, but Luhan is too busy drilling Minseok (he cringes at the word his brain supplies) in Mandarin. Zitao is the next best choice since he needs to improve his Korean, anyway.

 

Despite the extra training, Sehun finds himself standing stiffly like the rest of the Korean members. Their translator looms behind them—sometimes they can make out what she whispers in their ears, but mostly they just wait until the audience laughs to laugh with them. The Chinese members are obviously more comfortable speaking their native language; no fear of stumbling over their words like they do back in Korea.

 

After a ranking game that lasts too long, the hosts have Yifan pick a member to compete with. He chooses Zitao and the crowd cheers, their screams intensify with his explanation: “I feel Tao is very eager... and I think maybe he wants a reward tonight.”

 

Sehun’s brows shoot up. It doesn’t matter that Yifan quickly follows with _something like ramen_ —on the surface it’s simple fanservice, but there’s no way Yifan is that dense. Sehun refuses to believe that he hasn’t noticed Zitao’s clinginess, or say, how Zitao asks to shower with him the most.

 

He’ll talk to Zitao about it once they get back to their hotel.

 

Thanks to EXO’s newfound success, the company rents out an entire floor of the hotel they’re staying at. Sehun is relieved—they’ve had too many close calls with sasaengs backstage, following vans, _in the bathroom._ He shudders.

 

After making sure Junmyeon is asleep, he steps out of their room and tiptoes to Yifan and Zitao’s door. Technically, he’s not supposed to step out unless _absolutely necessary_ —managers’ orders.

 

This is necessary enough. He lifts his hand to knock, and with centimeters left before contact, he hears a filthy, high-pitched moan. He freezes, but not before his knuckles land on the wood with a loud, full _thump._

 

From inside the room, he hears Zitao sputter. “What was that?”

 

The reply is in Yifan’s distinct baritone. “Fuck.”

Sehun panics. He can’t run back to his room and make a scene, so he straightens up and decides to act natural. He knocks again. This time, he hears the rustle of sheets and the ring of a zipper.  _This was a mistake this was a mistake—_

 

Yifan opens the door, hair mussed and shirt wrinkled. His lips are swollen and the day’s makeup is half-smeared across his cheeks. Sehun looks down and regrets it immediately—eyes shooting back up but not before tracing the prominent tent in Yifan’s jeans.

 

“What is it, kid?”

 

“Uh, I... I wanted to talk to Tao? Is he free?”

 

Yifan glares, and it’d be more intimidating if Sehun hadn’t grown two inches in the past year.

 

“Sure is. Come in.” From the bed, Zitao yelps and throws a blanket over himself.

 

Sehun steps inside, warily sitting at an armchair as Yifan sits across from him on the corner of the bed. Zitao shuffles underneath the sheets. Eventually he pops up from the covers, clothed, looking just as debauched as Yifan, with the addition of hickeys trailed down his neck.

 

Yifan clears his throat. “What was so important that you snuck out for?”

 

“Well, uh,” Sehun looks away, glancing everywhere except the two aroused men in front of him. “I just wanted some more language tips from Tao. You know, for the show.”

 

Zitao and Yifan exchange confused glances.

 

“You mean,” Zitao speaks slowly, “for the show we just came back from?”

 

Sehun pales. “Haha, yeah... that show.”

 

“Oh, for fuck’s sake.” Yifan spits this out in English, but it’s simple enough for both Zitao and Sehun to freeze. “Sehun, you don’t have to play dumb. It’s okay if you know—kind of obvious what would’ve happened, after all.”

 

Sehun’s shoulders droop in relief. He notices Zitao’s do the same, but all the tension returns with Yifan’s next words.

 

“It won’t happen again, so don’t worry.”

 

A pause.

 

“W-what do you mean?” Zitao sounds broken. Sehun gets up to comfort him, but he flinches, lip quivering, eyes teary yet hard. “Don’t touch me.”

 

Yifan laughs, cold and bitter. “Taozi, don’t be mad at him, please. Be mad at me. This wasn’t a good idea in the first place.”

 

“But Luhan and Minseok—”

 

“Are only together because Sehun didn’t confess fast enough.”

 

Sehun sits back into his chair, jaw rigid, fists clenched. “Hyung, what does that have to do with anything?”  _How did you know?_

Yifan seems to read his mind. “I saw you two kiss a long time ago, before we’d even debuted. I’m sorry; I should’ve walked away. I guess you catching us is only fair.

 

“Maybe us being caught is for the better. We’re K-pop idols, after all.”

 

Zitao growls. “So what? Luhan and Minseok are happy. Why can’t we be?”

 

“Because Taozi,” Yifan looks over, almost fondly, as if he wasn’t breaking Zitao’s heart. “This is the life we chose. Our futures are too uncertain to chase happiness in relationships—it’s cowardly to hide our feelings, but dumb to act on them.” He reaches out to Zitao, who gives his arm a half-hearted slap before falling into a hug. “I’m sorry. _Duizhang_ is sorry.”

 

“I-if you are,” Zitao sobs, “then get out. Please.”

 

Yifan nods. “I’ll switch rooms with Sehun for the night. I know Junmyeon wouldn’t mind.”

 

“Uh, I don’t think Tao wants to be with me right now.”

 

“Hush,” Zitao beckons him over. “It’s okay. I don’t want to be alone right now.”

 

“Are you sure? I can take the sofa—”

 

“I’m sure. Can we spoon again?”

 

Wordlessly, Sehun climbs onto the bed, clean pajamas pressing against Zitao’s sweaty day clothes. Yifan gives them a defeated look before shutting off the lights and leaving the room.

 

In the dark, Zitao snores as Sehun replays Yifan’s words again and again. _Our futures are too uncertain_.

 

 _How?_ They’re members of EXO, SM’s newest boy group. They live together and make music together, bound by ten-year contracts. _What’s so uncertain about that?_

Sehun doesn’t sleep for a long time.

 

 

#

 

 

EXO really makes it big with “Growl.” The company doubles their promotional appearances because the song pulls record streams, while the press calls it  _Korea’s National Anthem_. Their repackaged album becomes the first million-seller in Korea in over a decade. Sehun feels like he’s floating—both from the figures on his paycheck and hours of sleep per week that he can count on two hands.

 

The company also finally gives them a slogan: _We Are One_. It’s reassuring.

 

When it doesn’t seem things could get any better, one of their managers calls for a dorm meeting. “Everyone, your hard work has paid off. ‘Growl’ has brought in so much revenue that the company is willing to finance bigger dorms for you.”

 

Sehun woops along with the rest of the members.

 

“Twelve boys in this small space is a special kind of hell,” Kyungsoo comments. “Glad it’s over.”

 

They laugh. This they can all agree on.

 

“You’ll be moving into the new dorms in a week,” the manager continues. “EXO-K on one floor, and EXO-M on the other. Now start packing!”

 

They split up into their rooms. Sehun is too lazy to pack his own things at the moment, so he goes around offering his services to those who are. No sooner does he step into Minseok’s room does Minseok shoo him away.

 

“I love you, ’Hun, but I’d rather you not mess things up.”

 

Sehun gapes. “Hyung, who said anything about messing things up?”

 

“Junmyeon has horror stories about your half of the room. I already have a system for packing set up, and I doubt you can help.” He gives Sehun a knowing smile. “Go pester Hannie instead.”

 

Sehun feels vaguely attacked, but smiles back before heading to Luhan.

 

Luhan greets him with a hug, looking up when Sehun pulls back. “You. Stop growing.”

 

Sehun laughs—this friendly camaraderie with Luhan is something he missed, and he’s happy he can still partake in it. He hugs Luhan again, but is surprised at just how little his arms squeeze, and lets go in shock.

 

“Have you been losing weight?”

 

Luhan’s smile droops. “You noticed? It’s probably just from fatigue—you know our schedule’s been rough. Don’t worry too much about it, okay?”

 

A sigh, then a pout. “You know that’s hard for me to do.”

 

“I know, ’Hun.” Luhan smiles again, softer. “You know I love you, right?”

 

Sehun’s heart stutters. He can feel a dull pang in his chest as a blush creeps up his cheeks. “Uh,”

 

“Oh, shit. Too soon? Shit, that was dumb—”

 

“It’s okay, hyung.” Sehun returns the smile. “With or without the crush, I love you as a friend. I hope you know that.”  _I hope you know it’s more than a crush, too._

 

“You know,” Luhan turns back to his suitcase, but doesn’t pack. “You’re too nice. If I was in your place I wouldn’t be handling it as well as you have at all.”

 

“What are you saying?”

 

Luhan takes a breath, looks Sehun straight in the eyes, and steps closer. “I’m saying that I wouldn’t have given—”

 

“Han, have you seen my meds?”

 

Both of them jump at Yifan’s voice.

 

“No, I haven’t,” Luhan replies, stone-faced.

 

Yifan stands at the doorway, brow quirked, arms crossed. “Hm. Sehun?”

 

“Yes, hyung?”

 

“Why don’t you come help Taozi and I pack?”

 

Sehun looks at Luhan, who refuses to look back.

 

“Don’t worry, I’ve got this. Go help ’Fan. For a leader, he’s pretty disorganized.” He forces a laugh.

 

Sehun nods and follows Yifan to Zitao’s room. He gives him a tense smile, but Zitao returns it fully. “Hey! What are you doing here?”

 

“I guess I’m helping you pack.”

 

Yifan shakes his head. “You don’t have to. I just stole you away from Han because I passed by and—to be blunt—it looked like you two were going to kiss.”

 

Both Sehun and Zitao look scandalized. The latter recovers first. “Oh man, who knew Sehun was such a playboy?”

 

Sehun punches his shoulder.

 

“Ow! Is that any way to treat your hyung?”

 

“That’s rich, coming from a brat.”

 

“Who are you calling a brat? Duizhang—” Zitao stops, realizing that Yifan had left the room. “Weird. Where’d he go?”

 

Sehun shrugs. “Let’s check the rooms. Maybe he’s asking around if anyone’s seen his meds.”

 

As they walk out, Sehun spots a prescription bag by Yifan’s bed. _Nitroglycerin transdermal_. The name doesn’t ring any bells, but Sehun takes note to tell him later. Yifan can get it himself—after all, he did interrupt whatever Sehun and Luhan had going.

 

“You know, I’m happy you and Kris are still friends.”

 

Zitao gives him a smile. It’s slightly pained, but genuine. “I love him too much to never speak to him again.”

 

“And before I forget, Sehun,” he lowers his voice, “your secret is safe with me.”

 

Sehun would say more, but they catch hushed whispers coming from his room. It’s Junmyeon and Yifan. Both he and Zitao quiet their steps as they slowly make their way to the door—neither want to interrupt what sounds like an argument.

 

“EXO-M is losing their Chinese fanbase, Suho. Doesn’t that matter to you?”

 

“It does. I’m sorry if you think otherwise. But if that’s the cost for a united team and a bigger presence in Asia overall, I’ll take it.”

 

“That’s easy to say when SM doesn’t reject all the endorsements you or your members get.”

 

“Look. Let’s discuss this with the higher-ups later. I promise I’ll be with you then, okay? But please, take it easy. You look so tired.”

 

“You do, too.”

 

“I’m trying my best, Yifan-hyung.”

 

“I know, Junmyeon. I know.”

 

Footsteps approach the door, and Sehun and Zitao stride to different rooms; both finding someone to feign conversation with.

 

In the rush of it all, Sehun forgets to tell Yifan that he’s found his medicine.

 

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Please leave comments regarding anything! Talking to people is how I really get motivated and get my creative juices flowing. Until next time :)


	4. 2014

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> They read Luhan's new post with bated breath—a sentence in Mandarin, but short and simple enough for both of them to understand:
> 
> I’m home.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Instead of the usual week, it took me almost 3 weeks to crank this mf out! Guess that's what smut and heavy canon does...
> 
> Plenty of angst and sex in this chapter, though. I feel dirty. But pleased.
> 
> P.S. thank you K. uwu

Sehun climbs into the company van after Zitao. He’d agreed to keep him company in the practice room, _because_ _it gets so lonely there, and you’ve been thinking way too much lately._ He’d rolled his eyes but couldn’t reply—Zitao was right.

 

When they get to the practice room, Sehun quickly sits next to the outlet, charger and phone in hand. Zitao smiles fondly—Sehun _did_ say he’d keep him company, not join him. After all, only one of them can execute the “Overdose” flip.

 

As the last few lines of the song play, Zitao does a running start and dives forward. He spins his entire body at a slant while his legs arc over his head, then executes the landing even while his form is still at an angle to the ground. Right before the music cuts out, he turns around swiftly for the ending pose.

 

 _He’s handsome,_ Sehun thinks. He’s always known this. Even with the wear of schedules and diets, he sees how Zitao’s muscles ripple under his tank top as he cuts through the air; how his bone structure compliments coy lips, a high nose, and piercing eyes.

 

_Why am I noticing all that now?_

 

His staring is obvious enough that when Zitao turns to him, sweaty and panting, he smirks.

 

“Like what you see?”

 

Sehun looks away. “I—uh, no. The answer is no.”

 

“With how you were drooling it’s like Luhan was the one practicing instead.”

 

Sehun wipes at his mouth, finds it dry, then flushes at Zitao’s guffaws. Embarrassed, he stands and stomps over to him, poking his shoulder. “Someone’s getting a little narcissistic.”

 

Zitao quirks a brow and crosses him arms. “I prefer the term _confident._ ”

 

“Well, you were right. Would’ve been even better if I was watching Luhan.”

 

(Not true—he can never see Luhan’s softness in all of Zitao’s sharp edges).

 

“ _Even better,_ you say?”

 

“...Crap.”

 

Zitao’s grin widens. “There’s nothing wrong with having a type. Yours just happens to be Chinese men, apparently.”

 

“Yah! Isn’t it a little too soon for you to be flirting with someone else?”

 

Sehun regrets saying that the moment it leaves his mouth. The silence that follows is almost as painful as the way Zitao’s expression hardens.

 

“It’s been months, Sehun.”

 

“I know, I’m stupid—”

 

“Isn’t it a little too late for you to mope over Luhan?”

 

Another silence. They eye each other, tense yet nervous. Sehun is more worried about hurting him than the sting of Zitao’s words.

 

“You’re right.”

 

Admitting that hurts a lot more than he expects.

 

“Wait, what?” Zitao’s glare fades to uncertainty, and he uncrosses his arms. “I wasn’t planning to talk deep again so soon. I was just mad—”

 

“But you made a point. Luhan has Minseok. I’m happy for them, but that doesn’t mean I’m happy with myself.”

 

“What do you mean?”

 

Sehun blinks back a few tears. “Remember what Kris said? That Luhan and Minseok are only together because I was too late?”

 

“Go on.”

 

“He’s right, besides the implication that Min’s a rebound.” _At least, he better be wrong about that._ “I had my chance and I blew it. Even now I still like him, but I’m not going to steal him away, or anything. The only thing I can do is accept reality and move on.”

 

“Damn, those are the words of someone who really had to grow up fast.” Zitao reaches out and takes Sehun’s hand. “But I get you. You’re not the only reject in this room.”

 

Despite the topic, Sehun smiles. “Honestly, you’re doing a pretty awful job comforting me.”

 

“Brats are supposed to be taken care of, not the other way around.”

 

Sehun cringes. Zitao snickers.

 

“You know you love me.”

 

 

#

 

 

Minutes before the start of their “Overdose” comeback showcase, Yifan steps out of line and vomits into the nearest trashcan. Sehun and those nearest step away in disgust, but Luhan comes over to rubs his back as he continues to gag.

 

“’Fan, it’s okay. You’re okay.”

 

After a few more heaves, he straightens up and looks at Luhan. To Sehun’s surprise, Luhan shrinks back.

 

“I’m not okay,” Yifan spits shakily, clutching his chest. “And neither are you, Han.”

 

Luhan doesn’t reply. They get back into formation, silent.

 

Under the stage lights, Sehun sees how obvious Yifan’s gaunt cheeks and heavy eyebags are. He notices that the rest of them share the same worn look through their caked concealer.

 

 _None of us are okay,_ he realizes. _But what can we do?_

 

 

#

 

 

The answer comes a few weeks later. Sehun wakes up last and stumbles into the living room to find the other five members sitting on the couch.  _Weird._ They’d never let him sleep in this late.

 

“Su—Junmyeon, what’s going on?”

 

They all look exhausted, which is expected, but something heavier lurks underneath. One of their managers nervously pace past as he checks his phone again and again.

 

“It’s Kris. He filed a lawsuit against the company today. Said he felt trapped by his contract.”

 

Sehun blinks. “It’s May. We have concerts in a week. Is he for real?”

 

The lack of response from any of them says enough: Junmyeon cups his head in his hands; Baekhyun and Chanyeol stare ahead with tight jaws, eyes red-rimmed; and Jongin buries his face in Kyungsoo’s shoulder. Kyungsoo lets him, his own eyes hollow.

 

No one wants to talk to Sehun, and he hates how lonely that makes him feel. He turns to leave, but Junmyeon clears his throat.

 

“Sehun, come sit. Let’s all wait for the rest together.”

  
“What?”

 

“The others will arrive soon, from China. All _five_ of them.”

 

He doesn’t answer.

 

Baekhyun reaches out. “Sehunnie, please stay for your hyungs.”

 

“Even if we don’t talk about it right now,” Chanyeol adds, “we can at least enjoy each other’s company, maybe?”

 

The words are timid—uncertain—but Sehun nods and squishes onto the already-cramped couch. Only a few silent minutes pass before the beeps of the front door’s passcode filter through the dorm.

 

EXO-M arrive as five again. Yixing shuffles in last, cheeks sullen and eyes puffy, but he doesn’t join the rest of EXO-M on the floor. Instead he stands before the ten boys, exchanges nods with their managers, then clears his throat. “We’ve already gone over this during the ride here, so I’ll make this quick. We had a flight to Korea today, but Yifan wouldn’t board the plane. Then the news came out, which honestly, couldn’t have happened at a worse time.” Yixing sighs, but stands tall—outside of dancing, Sehun has never seen him this commanding. Even his Korean is clear and concise.

 

Jongin raises a hand. “It’s nice to know we’re all on the same page, but why’d you need to announce this, Lay-hyung?”

 

“Because,” one of the managers answer. “He’s EXO-M’s leader now.”

 

Sehun gasps. His members are equally surprised. _Everything’s moving so fast._

 

Yixing bows, and Junmyeon quickly recovers from his shock to stand and bow back. “I’ll try my best to be a good bridge between K and M, and that means being loyal and open. I will never leave EXO—this is a promise I share with my Chinese brothers.”

 

“So, it’s true?” Kyungsoo tilts his head. “The five of you didn’t know?”

 

“We had no idea he’d betray us,” Zitao cuts in, tone both bitter and fragile.

 

They murmur in agreement, and as the energy dies down, the managers reveal that the concerts will be held as planned.

 

The eleven of them numbly accept the news. It’s not like they have a choice.

 

 

#

 

 

Sleeping is a luxury EXO can’t afford.

 

Sehun loses track of time in a hazy cycle of music shows, dance practice, and concert preparations. He feels perpetually nauseous but can’t really vomit with how little he manages to eat—his stomach feels empty, but so does the rest of him.

 

The others don’t fare any better. They collectively decide not to mention Yifan at all, which is difficult when he’s the reason they have to relearn choreography and reshoot concert VCRs.

 

But above all this, they smile. It’s what they’ve been trained to do—the uniform idol smile for cameras and fans, with only subtle variations for each member’s charm. It almost convinces Sehun that they’ll be okay, except none of them know when to put it away. Even in the practice room, the smiles taunt them in their reflections, grafted over withered, sweaty faces as they learn choreography for one less member.

 

To avoid seeing the person— _himself_ —in the mirror, Sehun spaces off as he dances. He remembers how just a few months ago, one of their managers gathered the twelve of them together and announced that “Overdose” promotions would be divided between EXO-K and EXO-M. _Just like old times,_ he quipped.

 

 _Old times._ Sehun feels a little less burdened thinking about EXO’s early days, when the biggest concern was getting through their debut. He’d relive the cringey superpowers, emo haircuts, and shimmery faux-streetwear if it meant feeling whole again. It’s ironic how he used to worry that splitting up would weaken their team dynamic, but now—together as eleven—they’re increasingly fractured. _Broken._ He feels this in their clipped conversations between schedules; in the quietness of the dorm that threatens to suck him in like a vacuum.

 

 “...’Hun? Sehun?” Jongin looks over, concerned. “You okay?”

 

Sehun realizes he’s stopped dancing and opens his mouth to reply, but the words die as his tongue scraps against his lingual crib. He feels the familiar sting where metal cuts though muscle—it’s something he’s gotten used to, he really has—and then he’s sobbing into his fist, face scrunched and pinking as he slumps to the wooden floor.

 

“Oh, fuck.” Zitao breaks from formation and strides to Sehun, enveloping him in an awkward hug. “What’s wrong?”

 

Sehun blubbers as he tries to steady his breathing. Zitao shushes him. “It’s okay to not be okay. Cry as long as you want. We can talk when you’re ready.”

 

“I-I wish I didn’t have to wear this s-stupid lisp guard thing.”

 

“Is that all?” Minseok asks perceptively.

 

“...No.”

 

By this time, the rest of the members join him on the floor. Their dance instructor stops the music.

 

“C’mon, it’s just us,” Jongdae coaxes. “We’re all here for you.”

 

“Are you?” Sehun despises how _weak_ he sounds, but it’s not like his physical and mental states are any better. “Aren’t you all tired?”

 

A silence. The boys look around, waiting for someone to answer.

 

“I am,” Chanyeol mumbles. Louder: “We’re all tired, but I’m sorry it’s hitting you this hard, ’Hun.”

 

“The company really doesn’t give a shit, huh?” Baekhyun cuts in.

 

“W-well—” Sehun glances at their dance instructor, who makes a show of zipping his lips.

 

“It’s okay to speak your mind,” Junmyeon reassures. “The company is overworking us, but this is the life we chose, isn’t it?”

 

“It is.”

 

“No matter how hard it gets, this is our dream. Our passion. And we’re so lucky to have the fans that we do. I just wish we were still one.”

 

Yixing shakes his head. “We _still_ are one. We’ve got your back, Sehun. Promise.”

 

Sehun wipes his tears away and gives each of them a tentative smile. Only Luhan doesn’t smile back, his eyes glazed with resignation.

 

 

#

 

 

The news spreads across the web, netizens picking sides after the details of Yifan’s lawsuit come out: _Discrimination against Chinese members. Near-fatal heart condition. No opportunities for EXO-M._

 

Yifan’s claims are direct. They’re not wrong _,_ and Sehun admits that. But he also understands that the rest of them make individual sacrifices for the whole of EXO. He’s aware of EXO-M’s star power, and how easy it would be for Luhan, Yixing, and Zitao to break free for guaranteed success in China.

 

But they’re here, guiding the rest through another taping of _Happy Camp._

 

From what little he can grasp of Mandarin from extra classes (and sessions with Zitao), Sehun catches that the hosts want to talk about Yifan’s departure. _Great._ Before filming in front of the audience, the crew had each EXO member sit down and talk about their _loss,_ and how they’ll be _brothers even stronger than ever,_ because _We Are One._

The editors meticulously cut out anything that sounds even vaguely hostile, and what little remains is shown to the audience. And yet it’s enough to make them—and to Sehun’s surprise, Yixing and Zitao—cry.

 

Afterwards, the hosts ask Junmyeon and Yixing as EXO’s leaders to reflect on the video. Junmyeon makes sure to emphasize how selfless the members were. Yixing, on the other hand, admits _forever_ is uncertain, but that he’ll enjoy every moment possible with his fellow members.

 

Sehun admires their diplomacy. He knows they withheld a lot.

 

There’s a sense of finality in having something as raw as their reactions manipulated and restrained for mass consumption—how this is part of their identity as EXO, now. It makes sense, Sehun realizes.  _In a fucked-up way, it makes sense._

After filming wraps up, the group heads to their hotel. It’s the same hotel they stayed at for their only OT12 appearance on _Happy Camp,_ just under a year ago _._ No one mentions the fact.

 

Sehun rooms with Junmyeon again, and they just finish exchanging goodnights before someone knocks on their door.

 

Junmyeon frowns, gets up, and peers through the peephole. “Chanyeol?”

 

“Yeah.” He sounds worn. _Dejected._ “Can I come in, hyung?”

 

Junmyeon opens the door and Chanyeol barges inside, eyes red.

 

“Hyung, what’s wrong?” Sehun isn’t used to seeing Chanyeol so close to tears.

 

“It’s Baekhyun. He’s seeing Taeyeon. Said he wanted to tell me before the news came out.”

 

“Uh, congrats to him?”

 

Chanyeol shoots him a lethal glare.

 

“On second thought, I’m going to leave.”

 

Junmyeon opens his mouth to protest, but Sehun shakes his head. “It’s okay; this is obviously something heavy that I know nothing about, so I’ll give you guys some privacy. Besides, I know Tao is rooming alone. I bet he needs company.” He steps out, nodding at the two of them.

 

Checking to see if the hallway is empty of security guards or sasaengs, Sehun quietly strides to Zitao’s room and knocks. No response. Desperate not to get caught, he resorts to soft, rapid-fire taps in hopes that Zitao will come quick.

 

Zitao eventually answers, swinging open his door in his bathrobe. He scowls. “I was in the shower, Sehun. What’s so urgent that you had to knock nonstop?”

 

Sehun grins sheepishly. “Whoops, sorry. I just wanted to know if I could sleep with you tonight. Chanyeol’s having a therapy session with Junmyeon and I didn’t want to intrude.”

 

“Sure.” Zitao’s expression softens. “You’re too nice, you know that? I would’ve made Suho leave instead.”

 

“I know,” Sehun shrugs, then smirks. “Like now, for example. I know how much of a scaredy-cat you are, so I came to check on you.”

 

Surprisingly, Zitao leers back. “If you really cared, you would’ve joined me in the shower. I need someone strong to protect me while I’m exposed.”

 

Sehun doesn’t know what comes over him, but in that moment, he steps into the room, slams the door shut, and pushes Zitao back until they’re both sitting on the bed.

 

“Hyung, what’re you trying to do?”

 

“I’ve been flirting with you nonstop. Isn’t it obvious?”

 

“But—Kris—”

 

Zitao shushes him and leans in. Sehun does, too, until their foreheads touch.

 

“I’m not saying I’m over him. But I’d be lying if I said I didn’t want to try this.”

 

“Oh, same. With Luhan, I mean. Same.”

 

They kiss. It doesn’t send sparks up Sehun’s spine like the one with Luhan did, but fills his chest and groin with a tentative warmth.

 

 _Tao isn’t Luhan,_ Sehun reminds himself; repeats. _Tao isn’t Luhan._

 

The room is noiseless except for the quiet smacks of their needy lips and Zitao’s breathy moans as they lay back together, Sehun on top. He savors Zitao’s minty breath and strawberry-scented body wash, running one hand through damp hair and another over tan pecs where the bathrobe opens.

 

Sehun pulls away and takes pride in Zitao’s blown pupils; the faint flush spilling across cheeks; and his swollen, shiny lips.  _I’m the reason he’s like this._

The thought runs through Sehun’s head, and he feels absolutely enthralled.

 

Zitao whines at the sudden loss of contact. “Why’d you stop?”

 

Sehun winks. “Just admiring my work.”

 

“Ugh.” Zitao scoffs, but his blush deepens. “Shut up and make me come.”

 

“Oh my, someone’s feisty.”

 

_“Please.”_

 

Sehun nods and trails his fingers down Zitao’s torso, eliciting shivers when he runs over pert nipples and still-wet abs. He gets to the belt and unknots it, pushing aside the bathrobe to expose Zitao’s cock.

 

“Wow.”

 

Zitao wiggles his hips. “Like what you see?”

 

“Yes,” Sehun breathes out. “This is like that dream I had about Luhan once.”

 

_Shit._

He freezes, hand hovering over Zitao’s cock. “I just ruined the moment. Can you tell I’ve never really done this before?”

 

Thankfully, Zitao just gives him a look. “Can we not talk about the pretty man you spent years angsting over right now?”

 

“Good point. I should be talking about the pretty man under me instead.”

 

Another scoff. “Hurry up!”

 

“Hold on! Wet dreams don’t prepare you for this type of stuff.”

 

“Obviously. I’m getting soft so you better work fast.”

 

“Okay, uh, what do you want to do?”

 

“Well I have neither lube nor condoms, so how about we put our mouths to good use? That’s not too much for a virgin like you, is it?”

 

Sehun reddens. “Yah! You know I can just leave?”

 

Zitao arches a brow and pulls him down, grinding his slowly-swelling shaft against Sehun’s pajama bulge. “You sure about that?”

 

Sehun shakes his head and pulls back again, wordlessly pulls his pants and boxers down and off in one go. After a moment’s hesitation, he whips off his shirt as well. Zitao follows suit by fulling slipping out of his bathrobe.

 

They’re both naked, eyeing each other hungrily—their cocks bobbing as they scoot closer together. Zitao eagerly strokes his fingers down Sehun’s pale abs, stopping just above the base of his shaft.

 

 _“Hyung,”_ Sehun whines.

 

Zitao tuts and rolls them over, so he’s the one on top instead.

 

“Hey—”

 

“Shh.” Zitao rotates his body and nuzzles his face in Sehun’s pubes, ass raised just enough for his hard cock to dangle above Sehun’s mouth.

 

_Fuck._

Zitao swallows Sehun whole, slurping wantonly. Sehun lets out a broken moan—he’s only ever felt his own hand before, and it takes all his might not to thrust into the wet, slippery heat. To distract himself, he licks at Zitao’s flushed head, the faint tang of precum inviting him for more.

 

He takes Zitao into his mouth. Zitao’s cock is heavy on his tongue, filling him up so much that after a few sucks, he gags and pulls away, spit dribbling onto his jaw. Zitao, unperturbed, hums around his cock, the vibrations making him twitch.

 

A familiar sensation coils at the base of Sehun’s stomach. He’s close, but doesn’t want to come alone. He props his head up, grabs both of Zitao’s cheeks, and spreads them apart. Immediately, Zitao’s body tenses up. He pulls off with a moist _pop_ when he finally feels Sehun lick at his hole.

 

“Oh, _fuck_.” He drops his head, panting shamelessly as Sehun drags his hot tongue over his dusky rim and dips past the ring of muscle and again. Zitao ignores Sehun’s cock, fully engrossed in rolling his hips into Sehun’s face every time he laps at his ass.

 

Eventually, Sehun notices, and stops.

 

Zitao huffs. “Why are we stopping again?”

 

“Because _you_ aren’t returning the favor.”

 

“Oh.” Zitao perks up. “I’ve got it.” He clambers off of Sehun and sits across from him. Without breaking eye contact, he takes Sehun’s hand and sucks sloppily on his index finger. Zitao makes sure the finger is coated in spit, then climbs into Sehun’s lap, slotting their cocks together. He grabs them in one hand, relishing the easy friction from their spit and precum, while guiding Sehun’s hand behind him with the other.

 

They both moan as Sehun’s finger breaches Zitao’s hole, sliding in all the way to the knuckle. Once Zitao is adjusted, he surges forward and kisses Sehun, forcing his mouth open with his tongue. As they make out, Zitao rides Sehun’s finger and jerks both of them off simultaneously. Their slick cocks slide noisily against each other, audible even under their desperate breaths. Sehun makes sure to crook his finger when he feels close again. He wants them to come together.

 

Once Sehun lends a hand in jerking both of their cocks, it’s only a matter of seconds before they climax, sucking in each other’s moans. Zitao clenches around his finger as he comes, his load shooting onto their bellies. Sehun does the same, the last of their warm spurts dribbling down their hands and onto their pubes, mixing together.

 

Sehun ends the kiss and looks down at the mess between them. “Wow.”

 

“Wow?” Zitao tries to sound offended, but his breathing is too hard to express anything other than pleasure. “That’s all you have to say?”

 

Sehun doesn’t respond, but smiles as he grabs his discarded pajama top and wipes them down quickly. They cuddle under the covers—Sehun the big spoon, as usual—as fatigue quickly catches up to them.

 

Just before Sehun closes his eyes, he hears Zitao let out a soft _duizhang_.

Sehun grits his teeth. Envy simmers in his gut, surging ugly all the way up to his throat. He swallows the feeling away.

 

_Later._

 

For now, they can pretend that what they have is enough. 

 

 

 

#

 

 

They don’t tell anyone about _that night_ (Zitao’s insistent terminology). They decide to act _normal_ , which eventually devolves into an avoidance game.

 

It gets to the point that when Zitao blunders the “Overdose” flip during a concert—nearly slamming his head onto the floor from a too-weak takeoff—Sehun consciously steps away as the other members crowd around Zitao’s fallen form.

 

He hates how familiar it all feels, the awkwardness mingled with guilt. The déjà vu only intensifies when Jongin barges into his hotel room one afternoon and locks the door behind him. He joins Sehun on his bed.

 

“What, did Junmyeon tell you to talk to me again?”

 

Jongin rolls his eyes. “I’m my own person, ’Hun. But I’m sure he’s noticed, too.”

 

“What do you mean?”

 

“Well, you’ve seen all the... tension in our dorm, haven’t you?”

 

Sehun nods. “Now that you mention it, Baek and ’Yeol aren’t as annoyingly loud anymore. They barely even talk.”

 

“Maybe dating Taeyeon-unnie mellowed him out.”

 

“Or maybe Chanyeol’s—” Sehun cuts himself off.

 

Jongin furrows his brows. “What?”

 

“Nothing. Why are you bringing this up, anyway?”

 

A sigh. “Because you’re part of the problem.”

 

Sehun looks away. Jongin takes his silence as admission. “Aha! So there really is something going on between you and Tao!”

 

“I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

 

“Really? The tent in your sweats say otherwise.”

 

Sehun’s eyes widen. He looks down at his—unsurprisingly—soft crotch and grimaces. “Tao’s been rubbing off on you, huh Nini?”

 

Jongin smirks. “What do you mean? He’s not the one rubbing me off.”

 

“Wha—I... we promised we wouldn’t tell anyone!” Sehun groans, burying his face in his hands.

 

Silence envelopes them.

 

“Sehunnie,” Jongin starts, voice soft. “This whole time... I was joking. I saw you two were being awkward, but I didn’t know it went that far.”

 

“Well, now you do. We fooled around a few weeks ago.” Sehun rubs at his temples. “I don’t know what to make of it, though.”

 

“Neither do I. I thought you liked Luhan.”

 

“I do.”

 

“I thought he liked Kris.”

 

“He does.” A pause. “How did you know?”

 

“How could I not know?”

 

“Good point.”

 

Jongin slings an arm around him. “Anyways, my point is that we’re not really representing _We Are One_ that well, and since you used to be so worried about teamwork, I decided to bring it up with you.”

 

“I appreciate that, I really do.” Sehun looks at him, sadly. “But things change.”

 

“Wait, don’t tell me. You used to be so young and bright, but the idol life sucked it out of you, and now you’re an automated shell blah, blah blah. I get it. But underneath all that cynicism, you’re still Oh Sehun—the shy, sweet dude who stood up for me when no one else would.”

 

Sehun smiles warmly at the compliment. “Okay, you got me there. I guess I’ll patch it up with Tao.”

 

Jongin smiles back. “Thanks, ’Hun. Has anyone ever told you how nice you really are?”

 

“Trust me when I say I’d rather not be reminded.”

 

 

#

 

 

When Jongin said to make up with Zitao, Sehun didn’t expect a spur-of-the-moment vacation to Sanya during their Chuseok holiday.  _It’ll be fun, ’Hunnie,_ Zitao had begged, and—admittedly—Sehun couldn’t resist. A trip with just the two of them would’ve been a great way to reconnect and overcome any awkward walls they’d built up.

 

Of course, a manager vetoed the idea at first. The final compromise had Junmyeon third-wheeling them wherever they went.

 

At least they like him. Even with Yifan gone, Sehun cringes at the idea of him, Yifan, and Zitao going on vacation together. He doesn’t see how it could get any worse, but strapped into a speeding van, he curses for thinking too soon.

 

Their driver accelerates even further, trying to lose the cars following them. “I hate stalker fans,” he grits out, knuckles white against the steering wheel.

 

“How do you think we feel?” Zitao spits back.

 

Junmyeon pats his arm. “Now, now, Taozi.”

 

Zitao deflates a little, but only relaxes further when Sehun grabs his hand.

 

“It’s okay, hyung. It’s okay. At least we’ll have something to tell the others later.”

 

Later turns out to be right when they arrive at the hotel—thinking ahead, Zitao had reservations at two separate hotels, anticipating the sasaengs that threaten to ruin their vacation. They rush inside and check in, leaving their luggage for the staff.

 

Their room only has two beds. Zitao hurriedly claims one and pats the spot next to him, waving Sehun over. Junmyeon laughs at them as he sits down on his own bed, relishing in his leader privilege. He ends up cramming onto the other bed anyways when he decides to videocall the members one by one.

 

Jongdae answers, waves, then hangs up. They’re not surprised when Kyungsoo doesn’t answer, and brush off Yixing as too engrossed in whatever song he’s working on. For Baekhyun, they leave a voicemail— _Getting it on with Taeyeon-unnie, huh?_ —but their fun dampens when Chanyeol rejects the request.

 

The three of them wonder just how true their teasing could be.

Jongin picks up after a few rings with his dog, Monggu, in his lap. He visibly angers with the story of the car chase.

 

 _“Those ‘fans’ could’ve caused a car crash!”_ He takes a deep breath when Monggu whimpers, apologetically petting his head. _“What if you guys had gotten hurt?”_

 

Zitao quirks his lips. “But we didn’t.”

 

Jongin blinks rapidly. _Is he trying not to cry?_

 

 _“But you could’ve!”_ Monggu shrinks away. _“Shit, I’m sorry, baby. I’m sorry.”_  A sigh. _“You can’t blame me for overreacting about stuff like that.”_ He strokes Monggu’s back, the action seemingly more soothing for him than the dog.

 

“That’s true,” Junmyeon says.

 

_“Thanks, hyung. It just sucks to know that even on vacation in a different country, my friends still can’t catch a break from sasaengs.”_

 

Sehun shrugs. “We’re used to it.”

 

 _“Let’s move on to lighter topics, shall we?”_ Jongin points at him. _“I see you and Zitao are getting along_ quite _well.”_

 

They both blush. Sehun shoots Jongin a glare through the camera. “Why wouldn’t we be? We’re in the company of our favorite leader, after all.”

 

“Yah, I’m your only leader!”

 

There’s barely an awkward silence after his statement. Sehun takes that as a sign of healing.

 

_“Well, I’m going to take Monggu here for a walk.”_

“Take us with you,” Zitao pouts.

 

_“No can do, hyung. This is a getting-back-to-nature type of walk.”_

“You mean a listening-to-music type of walk, and you don’t want to waste your battery talking to us at the same time.”

 

Jongin grins. _“’Hunnie, you know me too well. Happy Chuseok, guys.”_ He waves with Monggu’s little paw, and the call ends.

 

Junmyeon turns to Sehun and Zitao. “‘Getting along _quite_ well.’ Am I missing something?”

 

Sehun freezes. Thankfully, Zitao comes to the rescue by snatching Junmyeon's phone and ringing up Luhan, who answers almost immediately.

 

 _“Happy Chuseok guys!”_ He greets them in bed, shirtless, but under covers. His smile falls when they recount the sasaeng story for him. _“That’s fucked.”_

 

“Tell me about it,” Zitao agrees. “No doubt this’ll be all over the news pretty soon.”

 

Junmyeon groans. “I’m going to get an earful from the managers when we get back.”

 

“Sucks to be you, hyung,” Sehun snarks. They laugh.

 

Minseok—also shirtless—eventually joins Luhan on camera. _“Hey everyone. I’d ask how your Chuseok’s been, but I’ve heard enough.”_

 

“Wait,” Zitao tilts his head. “You were in the room this whole time? Why didn’t you come earlier?”

 

Minseok smirks crookedly. _“Oh, but I did.”_ Beside him, Luhan pinks.

 

“What—” Zitao clamps his mouth shut, realization and disgust seeping onto his face. “Ugh. Keep that shit in the bedroom.”

 

 _“We_ are _in the bedroom.”_

 

The statement brings familiar images to Sehun. He shoves them far into the back of his mind.

 

“Anyways,” Junmyeon cuts in. “We were just calling to check up on you guys; see how each member’s Chuseok was going.”

 

Minseok smiles. _“And how many people picked up?”_

 

“Three.” Junmyeon grimaces. “Just you and Luhan and Jongin. Well, four, if we count the two seconds with Jongdae.”

 

Luhan snickers. _“Wow. And to think I only answered because our leader was calling.”_

“I resent that.”

 

As Junmyeon and Minseok converse about _boring old man things_ (as Zitao put it), Sehun finds himself snuggling closer to him. Zitao’s body is cozy, and Sehun relaxes into his warmth.

 

 _“Wah,”_ Minseok suddenly exclaims. _“Lu, look. Tao and Sehun look so cute together.”_

Luhan smiles, but it doesn’t reach his eyes. _“I think you’re onto something, Baozi.”_

 

Panicking, Sehun and Zitao jump apart, both almost falling off the bed. Junmyeon looks confused once again.

 

“I feel like I’m missing something.”

 

“N-no.” Sehun stammers. Zitao tries to reply, but Luhan calls out his name. He’s laughing, but his eyes are cold as he says something in Mandarin.

 

From his limited grasp, Sehun catches _Better—watch—shove—dick._

Zitao glowers. His curt reply is in Korean. “I can fuck who I want, Lu-ge. It just so happens I choose Sehun.”

 

Junmyeon gasps. Luhan and Sehun stare at each other through the camera, before the former storms off.

 

Minseok gives a quick apology then ends the call.

 

Another awkward silence falls between the three of them. After glancing between Zitao and Sehun, Junmyeon speaks.

 

“Well, I supported Luhan and Minseok, so I can’t really say much. But I will say this—you guys are young. Be careful.”

 

They both nod.

 

That night, as Junmyeon sleeps across the room, Sehun and Zitao kiss messily on their bed. They lay under the covers, boxers pulled down, tugging at each other’s cocks. Their breaths are frantic—almost silent—impatient.

 

Zitao tears up when he eventually spills into Sehun’s hand. “I’m sorry,” he whispers. “I fucked up.”

 

Sehun doesn’t respond, even after he finishes into Zitao’s own grasp. He doesn’t know what exactly Zitao is referring to. _Telling Junmyeon? Fucking in the first place?_

_Thinking of Kris right after my first time?_

That last one bothers Sehun the most. He feels like a rebound.

 

A replacement.

 

 

#

 

 

EXO dives right back into their tour after the Chuseok holiday. Although no one says it, Sehun knows those few precious days in September weren’t long enough for any of them.

 

They’re backstage in Jakarta when Luhan and Minseok rush past him, Minseok pointing in the direction of a nearby trashcan. Sehun hears retching, looks over in alarm—and _sees._ He sees the IV needle marks on Luhan’s hand as he gripes the edge of the trashcan tight; the pasty skin stretched over protruding cheekbones; the way he sways unsteadily on his feet even while standing still.

 

Sehun approaches hesitantly and places a hand on Luhan’s back as he continues to heave. The scene is eerily familiar. When Luhan finally stops, he straightens up and looks both Sehun and Minseok in the eyes.

 

“Thank you.”

 

They nod back before Minseok guides Luhan back to his spot, waving off Junmyeon’s concern.

 

Onstage, Sehun realizes he didn’t tell Luhan that he’d be okay.

 

No one did.

 

 

#

 

 

Luhan’s condition worsens until the managers allow him to recuperate at home. The night before his flight, he gathers the others in his hotel room and tells them he wants to leave.

 

Sehun laughs—a crazed, clipped noise that no one joins. “That’s a pretty bad joke, hyung.”

 

Luhan bites his lip, eyes wet. “Sehun, it’s not a joke.”

 

A chill quickly descends upon the room.

 

Sehun refuses to look at him. Instead, he focuses on Chanyeol’s clenched fists and Jongin’s tense jaw; Baekhyun’s pursed lips and Kyungsoo’s hardened eyes.

 

“I’m going to file a lawsuit to nullify my contract with SM. Lately I’ve been talking to Yifan—”

 

“What do you mean, you’ve been talking to _Yifan_?” Junmyeon looks stressed.

 

“That’s exactly it. I wanted his lawyer for my case, too. He didn’t tell me to leave you guys. That was,” he takes a shaky breath. “That was my decision.”

 

“Well, at least you said something.” Zitao swallows thickly. “I guess that makes it a little better.”

 

 _No,_ Sehun wants to interject, _that doesn’t make it better. What happened to your promise? What happened to_ We Are One?

He wants to call Luhan a liar, to scream and bawl and go back to when they were twelve and lived in one tiny dorm—

 

_Or does he?_

 

—but all he can do is sob softly, his broken breaths and wet gasps filling the room. Through tears, he watches Yixing’s tired expression crumple as he embraces Luhan, before the rest of EXO-M wrap him in a group hug. One by one, EXO-K joins in, too. Sehun ends up on the outskirts, flanked by Kyungsoo and Chanyeol.

 

When the hug breaks apart, Minseok hands him some tissues, increasingly-chiseled face blank save for the redness of his eyes. His resigned glaze recalls that of Luhan’s all those months ago, but Sehun doesn’t get the same pit of dread in his stomach that he did then.

 

The eleven of them settle in a dreary nothingness. They don’t make any effort to talk, but don’t feel the need to leave, either. Across the room, Sehun sees Luhan leaning towards Minseok for a kiss. He feels he’s invading on a private moment, yet it happens in front of everyone.

 

Surprisingly, Minseok turns away.

 

There’s something in Luhan’s brash attempt at public affection, and in Minseok’s firm denial. Sehun just doesn’t know what.

 

 

#

 

 

The last concert with Luhan is in his hometown, Beijing. Sehun makes sure to block out most of it.

 

Luhan slips and falls too many times, brushing off each mistake with a withered smile even as he struggles to get back up. Sehun finds himself straying away like he did with Zitao. Both Yixing and Jongdae hug Luhan tightly in front of the screaming crowd ( _oh, if they only knew_ ), and Sehun wishes he could bring himself to do the same. He can’t.

 

Once they’ve finished their last goodbyes and head backstage, Luhan takes Sehun by the hand and leads him to a little alcove. They pass by Minseok on the way there, who gives Sehun a smile and Luhan a curt nod.

 

They sit on some equipment together, still holding hands, but don’t talk. Moments pass, and Sehun is just about to get up and leave when Luhan gives him a soft kiss on his cheek.

 

“W-what are you doing?”

 

Luhan pulls away, as if being burned. “I... I don’t know.”

 

“Then stop.” Sehun shocks himself with the force of his own words. “Stop it, hyung.”

 

_This isn’t fair to me._

“This isn’t fair to Minseok,” he says instead. “Don’t you care about him?”

 

“I do. I love him—”

 

“Then act like it. The least you can do is show him that his effort isn’t going to waste.”

 

“What do you think I do every day?”

 

“Then thisshouldn’t be happening.” Sehun wants to say more, but can't bring himself to. He doesn’t even know what exactly  _this_ refers to. He looks away, regretting the tension he created in this last moment.

 

Luhan smiles weakly and shakes his head.

 

“I’m sorry.”

 

Sehun nods, eyes fixed to the floor. He hopes Luhan takes that as _it’s okay,_ even when it’s not.

 

 

#

 

 

Luhan doesn’t go back to the hotel with the rest of them. Sehun is grateful for it as he slicks his fingers up with lube and eases the first one into Zitao’s clenching hole.

 

“Please, please,” Zitao begs, hands and knees leaving sweaty imprints on the hotel sheets. Sehun slips in a second finger, crooking it to make Zitao buck and arch. After one particularly strong jolt, he inserts a third and scissors.

 

They’re both fully naked, but Sehun hasn’t touched himself once. Zitao had reached for him earlier, but he’d slapped his hand away. Sehun wants to wait until the last moment before stimulating his leaking, heavy cock. He wants to feel the rush all at once—wants it to carry him away.

 

To _distract_.

 

When Zitao whines that he’s ready, Sehun rips open a condom and slides it on. He lubes himself then aligns with Zitao’s entrance and pushes in, relishing the slow breach that envelopes him. Once he bottoms out, gasping alongside Zitao, he pulls his cock almost all the way out before snapping his hips forward. Zitao’s arms give out as he faceplants into the bed, moaning hard. His cock bounces with each thrust.

 

They fuck hard and fast, slaps of skin accompanying the squeak of the bed and their moans. They haven’t kissed, and they don’t try to—an unspoken agreement. Fucking Zitao feels good. Feels great, actually.

 

Then, Sehun hears it. An almost-inaudible _Yifan_ slipping between Zitao’s breaths.

 

They should stop. They don’t.

 

Instead, Sehun pistons harder, angles so that his cock makes Zitao scream with each deep thrust. He remembers what he told himself the very first time they fooled around: _Tao isn’t Luhan._ And that’s right. Zitao will never be Luhan: too dark, too tall, too brash, too dependent. Just how he’ll _never_ be Yifan.

Sehun feels Zitao tensing around him, and that pushes him over the edge. He comes in the condom silently, guilt and shame swirling in his chest. Zitao cries _Yifan Yifan Yifan_ as he milks his release, painting the sheets and his chest white.

 

_I’m no better than Tao._

 

As Sehun wipes him down, Zitao cups his face in his hands and leans in for a brief, chaste kiss.

 

“Thank you.”

 

Sehun gives him a hesitant smile.

 

 

#

 

 

Luhan officially files his lawsuit in October—the month of their break between concerts. His statement is similar to Yifan’s: _Favoritism of EXO-K over EXO-M. Unequal treatment of Chinese members. Disregard of personal health._

The day the news comes out, Sehun finds Minseok sitting alone at the kitchen table, reading articles on the case. He joins him. “Hyung, I don’t think reading that is a good idea right now.”

 

Minseok smiles, tight and fake. “Can’t I keep tabs on someone I care about?”

 

“Just _care about?_ ”

 

“’Hun, we broke up. No need to skirt around the issue.”

 

 _Oh._ “I-I’m sorry. I didn’t know.”

 

“You don’t have to apologize.” Minseok’s smile softens into something more genuine. “It was my idea.”

 

Sehun struggles to find words. “Then... why?”

 

“Because I love him. There. I said it. He wanted out, and I was that liability. I loved him too much to hold him back.” He swallows, then takes a breath. “I said that maybe, we could talk again soon. As friends.”

 

“How did he take it, then?” Sehun knows he’s probing, but he wants that closure, too.

 

“Just like me.” A chuckle. Minseok speaks with a weariness beyond his youthful features. “Acting like everything’s okay. He always was too ambitious, you know?” His phone _pings—_ a Weibo alert for Luhan’s profile. After a brief hesitation, Minseok clicks on the notification.

 

They read his new post with bated breath—a sentence in Mandarin, but short and simple enough for both of them to understand.

 

_I’m home._

 

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Please leave comments regarding anything! Talking to people is how I really get motivated and get my creative juices flowing. Until next time :)


	5. 2015

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sehun doesn’t know how to interpret Zitao’s own silence, but knows he himself stays quiet because of the déjà vu that creeps up his spine.
> 
> He hugs Zitao the way he should’ve hugged Luhan, and cries for them both.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A little shorter than the past chapters, but things are winding down, ya know?
> 
> Hey K, I love you for all your help and also for being who you are.

“Overdose” brings back bad memories for all of EXO: the fuzziness of being awake for 24 hours straight; the pieces ripped out of their twelve-membered team; the bated breath as Zitao cuts through the air and _hopefully_ lands on his feet.

 

Unfortunately, Zitao doesn’t this time. He flips and slams onto the stage floor nearly face-first, his feet barely dampening the impact. This time, Sehun wants to run over and help. It’s only when he remembers that they’re livestreaming for the Golden Disk Awards that he maintains some composure.

                                                              

“The stage is too slippery,” Junmyeon says into the mic, subtly calling out the organizers. “Tao fell on it. Are you okay?”

 

“I’m fine,” Zitao answers, teeth clenched even as Junmyeon and Jongin hug him. The lie rings hollow in Sehun’s ears.

 

It doesn’t convince him, so how can it convince their fans?

 

 

#

 

 

Zitao’s words catch up to him a month later, at the 2015 Idol Star Athletics Championships.

The nine of them are in the crowd for the basketball game, cheering him on as he zips between players to stay open. When he shoots baskets, his form is impeccable— _as expected,_ Sehun observes.

 

It happens too fast. One moment, he’s watching Zitao run across the basketball court, shoes squeaking against polished wood. The next, Zitao collapses, face contorted in pain as he clutches his ankle.

 

Dread drips into Sehun’s stomach as the referee’s shrill whistle and fans cries mingle together. He jumps from his seat but freezes, realizing that he’d drown in the swarm of fans if he left the celebrity section. The members give him pitying looks before turning back to Zitao, who limps to a bench with the help of Jackson. They sit down together, and Zitao gives Jackson a tight hug, crying into his shoulder as doctors patch over his swollen, purpling ankle.

 

Seeing someone show concern eases Sehun, even if he couldn’t do anything.

 

Zitao arrives at the dorm some hours after the other members do, with crutches and his foot wrapped tight. A manager leads him to the couch, where Sehun scoots over to make space. The rest emerge from their rooms and congregate around them.

 

“Tao,” Junmyeon starts. “What did the doctors say?”

 

“Tore an ankle ligament,” Zitao hisses as he props his leg up on the coffee table. “I’ll have to take it easy for a while.”

 

“Within reason, of course,” the manager cut in.

 

“What do mean, _within reason?_ Tao needs rest.”

 

“And EXO needs to practice for the comeback. He’ll be fine.”

 

“We haven’t been fine in a long time.” _Shit._ Sehun didn’t mean to say that out loud.

 

The manager is speechless. Shocked, the members don’t respond, either. Sehun sees the guilt that slowly washes over their faces.

 

“’Hun,” Junmyeon reaches over and rubs his back. “Are you okay?”

 

Sehun refuses to look at him, and gestures to Zitao instead. “Please don’t worry about me; worry about Tao-hyung. He needs all the rest he can get.”

 

Zitao gives him a small smile. “I’ll be okay.”

 

Another lie, but Sehun doesn’t comment on it. Instead he fakes a yawn and claims the shower. The rest disperse after he gets up.

 

On his way to the bathroom, Jongin gives him a worried look. He ignores it.

 

 

#

 

 

It’s the last date on their Korean concert leg. They’ve just sang “Promise,” which is a painful reminder of the last year, when Jongdae decides to comfort the crowd. “Come on, it’s not a sad thing,” he smiles. “In 2014, we received a lot of love from everyone. To return your love, we wholeheartedly composed this song for you. It’s not a sad thing at all.”

 

He ends his spiel with a _Please believe in us,_ which—to Sehun—falls a little flat as Chanyeol admits that the song really is sad, and vows to write _happier songs_ in the future.

 

When it’s his turn to talk, Sehun ends up laughing at himself. Right in front of him are thousands of fans, and yet, here he is, moping. What he manages to say is mostly true: “I was so happy to hold the concerts. Please believe in us and keep following us until the end.”

 

The members continue to speak one by one: Yixing tells them that he promised himself he wouldn’t cry ( _can’t relate_ ), and Jongin somberly thanks the fans for giving him strength even after he fell off the stage.

 

A wave of sorrow washes across the entire venue as Zitao speaks, sunglasses obscuring his eyes but not his emotionally-cracked voice. “To stay with EXO and EXO-L is my happiness. I feel so guilty right now.” His lips start quivering as he takes a shaky breath, and the crowd cries before he does. “I was so sorry that when the members practiced in the practice room, I was staying at the dorm to rest, unable to join them.” Finally, his expression crumples, tears running down below his lenses.

 

“I’m so sorry.”

 

Zitao sobs like a wall inside of him collapsed, crying harder when Jongdae hugs him. His speech is such a contrast to Jongdae’s, Chanyeol’s, and Yixing’s that Sehun wants to applaud him for his sincerity, no matter how depressing it turned out to be.

 

(It hits Sehun then, that Zitao had been bottling up his emotions even before the start of the concerts. He thinks back to how nervous Zitao was for the “Call Me Baby” shoots, and how his moves became more and more restrained as filming progressed. He remembers Zitao limping whenever the camera wasn’t on him, and how he wouldn’t talk to any of them at all.

 

Why would he, when no one bothered to ask if he was okay?)

 

To salvage the situation, Baekhyun takes a large portion of his mic time talking about _Tao’s impressive dedication and effort,_ and how he hopes that _everyone will take care of him._ Then he jokes about _the_ _two darkest members crying and making the venue dark._

Sehun winces, noting Jongin and Zitao do the same.

 

After the concert, Zitao catches up to Sehun backstage. He hugs him tight—no asking, no words—but Sehun hugs back. It’s a familiar feeling. Cozy, not electrifying. Neither lean in for a kiss.

 

 _That’s how it should be,_ Sehun thinks, _but why does knowing that hurt?_

 

The next day, Yixing gets called to the SM offices. The rest of them act like everything is normal—as normal as EXO could be. They don’t dare to dig beyond the fact that he’s finally getting his own studio in China. Never mind the temptations of solo promotions, creative control, and endorsements.

 

Never mind that Zitao was told to wait for his, too. But only one of them was summoned today.

 

Yixing comes back radiant, double-dimpled smile infecting everyone in the living room when Minseok opens the door for him.

 

“Well, well. ’Xing’s working his way up, huh? Congrats.” He fist bumps Yixing, who ducks his head as he grins even wider.

 

“Thanks, hyung. I’m so happy. I get to promote in my home country.”

 

Baekhyun laughs as he runs to Yixing for a hug. “Don’t forget about us in your journeys, okay?”

 

“Baek,” Kyungsoo rolls his eyes. “He’s not going anywhere.”

 

“How do you—” Chanyeol cuts himself off, but dampens the mood anyway. The reminder of Yifan and Luhan—even months after they left—sits ugly in Sehun’s gut.

 

Zitao clears his throat. “Congrats, ge. I’m really happy for you.” He gestures to the crutches couch next to him. “I’d get up but, well...”

 

Yixing gives him a soft smile and sits next to him. “Thank you, Taozi. Hearing that from you really means a lot.” He rubs Zitao’s back, sensing the tension in his shoulders. “Be honest with me. How do you feel?”

 

“Honestly?” Zitao looks ahead, jaw tight. “A little jealous. But what can I do?”

 

“I’d talk to the company, if I were you.” Jongdae tilts his head to Junmyeon. “Or get our mama hen to talk for you.”

 

Zitao shakes his head and stumbles up. Yixing tries to help him, but gets brushed off. “I think I’ll head in early for the night. Healing boys need sleep, or something like that.”

 

Later, on his way to some midnight ramyeon, Sehun hears Zitao’s muffled, teary Mandarin from his room. For better or worse, he understands enough of it.

 

_Promised ’Xing-ge and I—_

 

_Worked so hard but it hurts—_

_Waited for nothing._

Zitao lets out a choked _Baba_ before breaking into tight, desperate sobs.

 

Sehun hesitates in front of Zitao’s door, not knowing what to do. After a full minute of standing, he heads back to his own room and climbs into bed, ignoring his stomach’s protests.

 

It’s hours before he can sleep again.

 

 

#

 

 

A week into their break, Zitao announces that he’s going to visit his father in China. The members and managers shrug it off—after all, another point of Yifan’s and Luhan’s lawsuits was not being able to see family.

 

Sehun wishes he could be just as cool about it as the rest of them. He quietly helps Zitao pack, then hugs him once all his bags are loaded into a company van. He doesn’t realize he’s crying until Jongdae cracks on it.

 

“Yah, he hasn’t even left yet!”

 

Sehun doesn’t respond even as the others laugh. He doesn’t know how to interpret Zitao’s own silence, but knows he himself can’t join because of the déjà vu that creeps up his spine. He squeezes tighter and nuzzles into Zitao’s neck, tears staining his designer top.

 

He hugs him the way he should’ve hugged Luhan, and cries for them both.

 

 

#

 

 

Zitao’s absence doesn’t affect them much. Sehun hates the fact, but he can tell they’re finally learning how to wall off their emotions. _And they said SM’s image training would prepare us for anything._

Things settle into a dull monotony that shatters within a week. They’re running through “Call Me Baby”—the nine-membered version they had to cram once Zitao’s injury relapsed—when a manager barges into the practice room and hurriedly pulls Junmyeon and Yixing out. The others exchange nervous looks.

 

“You guys don’t think—” Jongin starts.

 

“I don’t want to think anything,” Chanyeol interrupts coldly. “But that hasn’t helped the last two times, has it?”

 

Sehun tenses. In his peripheral he sees Baekhyun reach out, as if to comfort Chanyeol, before hesitantly drawing back.

 

The two leaders return with the manager, who gathers them close. “Zitao’s father posted a letter on Weibo today. Under no circumstances will any of you acknowledge it.”

 

“Hyung,” Sehun speaks up, “what does this mean for Tao?”

 

The manager shrugs. “Who knows—who cares? The letter’s already out, so that’s even more damage control to take care of.”

 

Minseok frowns. “You make this sound like it’s Tao’s fault.”

 

“How is it not? He goes to his father, and suddenly there’s a letter _from father to son_ begging him to leave the company. Quite a cowardly tactic, if you ask me.”

 

“I thought we knew ‘cowardly’ and ‘Tao’ went together,” Baekhyun quips. No one laughs.

 

“That’s enough.”

 

They all freeze at Yixing’s harsh tone.

 

“Taozi’s at home, resting. If I saw how hurt my son was, I’d be a terrible father if I didn’t try to do something about it.”

 

Junmyeon nods. “’Xing’s right. We shouldn’t jump to conclusions. We should wait.”

 

Kyungsoo purses his lips. “Waiting won’t do anything.”

 

“Then what do suggest we do instead, oh wise one?” Chanyeol snips. When he doesn’t get an answer, he strides over and pushes past Jongdae, who’d tried to block him from Kyungsoo.

 

He only calms down when he sees Sehun shrink back, fear and disappointment mingling in his eyes.

 

 

#

 

 

“Love Me Right” comes quietly, like repacks tend to do. Their instructor gives them only one version of the choreography—a nine-member dance. No one comments on the fact. They also record a few new songs, but this time, all of them pull double duty for the Korean and Chinese versions of the album.

  
The foreign vowels splash around in Sehun’s mouth, and his lisp hisses louder and louder with each additional take the producer’s ask for. He only has one line in “Promise,” and yet, he can’t get it _right._

 

Through the recording booth glass, he can see Kyungsoo’s impatient glare, and Baekhyun trying—and failing—to lift the atmosphere. Of course, Baekhyun’s approach is to make fun of his lisp. He doesn’t need to hear to know.

 

Sehun is thankful that no one laughs. He already feels enough of a hindrance as is.

 

From the engineering room, Yixing, Jongdae, and Chanyeol send thumbs ups. Sehun wishes that it was Zitao reassuring him instead. He tells himself it’s so he can get a refresher on Mandarin; so Zitao can record his part in “Promise,” _for the fans,_ but he knows he’s just being selfish.

 

He wants Zitao to ignore his father’s letter; to come back to Korea— _home—him—_

 

He clamps down on his thoughts, but they still drift, to Luhan and Yifan and _what if._

 

_What if they stayed?_

Sehun shakes his head, takes a deep breath, and readies himself for another two-second take.

 

 

#

 

 

They hear about Zitao’s self-established studio while promoting in June, but without a single word from him, they hold out until August. Then the news of his lawsuit comes out.

 

“What did I tell you all?” The same manager sneers, swiping through the articles as the members sit in their living room, dumbfounded. “First Hangeng, then Kris and Luhan, and now Tao. All Chinese traitors.”

 

Sehun winces at the venom in his voice. He peers over at Yixing, trying to be discreet, only to find the others unabashedly eyeing the EXO-M leader for a reaction.

 

“Manager-hyung,” Yixing stands to face him. “Them being Chinese is just an unfortunate coincidence. It has nothing to do with the strength of their drive or loyalty.”

 

“But ’Xing-hyung,” Baekhyun cuts in. “What about you? Will you leave, too?”

 

Yixing looks over threateningly, but his expression he softens when he sees Baekhyun struggling not to cry. He turns to the eight of them, voice unsteady, but stance determined. “Even though Lu and Taozi are my brothers, I won’t follow them. I promised I’d be loyal to EXO, so I’ll stay. I’ll represent my country without leaving the rest of my brothers.” He closes his eyes and takes a deep breath, jolting in surprise when Junmyeon and Baekhyun barrel into him for a tight hug.

 

“Thank you, ’Xing,” Junmyeon whispers, face crumpled in stress and sorrow. “Thank you.”

 

Yixing smiles and hugs them back, letting his tears flow. Sehun pretends not to notice Chanyeol’s jealous glare.

 

Jongin clears his throat. “You know, not saying I support Tao leaving or anything, but I get it.”

 

The manager scowls. “Oh? And what exactly do you get?”

 

“Tao and Lay-hyung and I all love to dance. We’ve all gotten hurt doing what we love, but we’ve pushed through.”

 

Jongdae smiles. “And we love you guys for it.”

 

“Let me finish!”

 

“Oops.”

 

“What I mean is that while we all did, Tao shouldn’t have. And if he’d kept going at the rate he did, there wouldn’t have been anything left for him. No dancing, no flips, no wushu.” He stares the manager down as best as he can. “Nothing.”

 

The silence that follows is one of agreement.

 

“Makes sense,” Minseok concedes. “I don’t like the fact that he left, but what can we do?”

 

Sehun laughs bitterly. “Nothing, hyung.” He stops, and when he finds everyone looking at him in worry, feels everything come crashing down, again. “We—I... I can’t do anything.” Hot tears slide down his cheeks, the familiar congestion filling his breaths and voice.

 

“I can’t keep falling for people who leave.”

 

The words sink over them like heavy smog. Now that Luhan and Zitao are gone, it doesn’t matter who knows. _It shouldn’t_ , and yet, he feels so helpless and exposed. The fact that no one says anything only makes him feel weaker.

 

They do end up in a group hug (sans the manager, _thank goodness_ ), but without the usual reassurances, it all seems a little fake.

 

 _Well,_ Sehun surmises, _another reminder that_ We Are One _is a lie._

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Please leave comments regarding anything! Talking to people is how I really get motivated and get my creative juices flowing. Until next time :)


	6. Epilogue: 2016

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sehun gets why they left.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A little something to wrap things up.
> 
> Thanks for being there, K.

Baekhyun’s birthday has the usual solo fanmeeting. Only Kyungsoo and Minseok pay a surprise visit—the rest are busy with schedules. Besides, they agreed to have late-night beer and chicken delivery at the dorm for a more private celebration.

 

Once the members start trickling to their rooms, full and tipsy, Sehun finds himself on his bed, looking out his window.

 

“Nights in Seoul are always beautiful, aren’t they?” Junmyeon asks.

 

Sehun nods, still fixated on the hazy lights as they spiral his thoughts into the usual regrets.

 

Down the road, he can just make out the convenience store he and Luhan visited, with the same neon logo that watched him chicken out of a kiss. In the same direction, he remembers Zitao’s vacant stare as he rode away in the company van, never coming back to their dorm again.

 

And if Sehun squints _just_ enough, his tired eyes blur the road into the one where that SM agent cornered him at his favorite tteokbokki stand, where he humored the man instead of running— _never talk to strangers,_ his mother always said—but that’s exactly what he did, meeting other strangers and singing to millions more—

 

Sehun shakes his head and stands. He still has to give Baekhyun his gift before everyone falls asleep, so why put a damper on things now? He hooks the giftbag on his arm before heading to the older’s room—Baekhyun is a great hyung, so barging in should be a forgivable offense.

 

He opens the door and freezes mid-step, eyes widening at the sight of Baekhyun flat against the wall, pouty lips parted in surprise as Chanyeol breaks away from their kiss and looks back; both their cheeks flushed with alcohol and arousal—

 

Sehun gently places the bag down before whipping around and stumbling back to his own room. _That’s new._ After a few seconds of awkward glances between him and Junmyeon, someone knocks.

 

“Psst,” Chanyeol whispers through the door, “is Junmyeon-hyung in there?”

 

“Why?” Sehun asks, the same time Junmyeon yells out “Yes!”

 

“Good. Make room.”

 

Sehun opens the door and Chanyeol and Baekhyun gingerly step inside. The rest of the members follow them.

 

“Hey, guys. Guess we have an announcement to make.”

 

Jongdae rolls his eyes. “Do tell, if recent events have affected its timing?”

 

“Yah!” Baekhyun shoves at him, which admittedly doesn’t do much. “This is important.” He glances at Chanyeol, who rolls his eyes and grins.

 

“Uh, well. BaekandIaredatingnow.”

 

A silence. Jongin ruefully passes some bills to a smirking Kyungsoo.

 

“Oh.” Junmyeon cocks his head. “Nice. Be careful and all that jazz, though.”

 

“Wait,” Sehun and Baekhyun say in unison. They glance at each other. “That’s it?”

 

“What were you guys expecting?”

 

“I don’t know.” Baekhyun shrugs. “Maybe a lecture or something? About how relationships between members never last?”

 

Sehun chokes on his spit. He notices that even Minseok jolts. The rest turn to Sehun, panic evident on their faces.

 

Baekhyun grabs his hands and looks him in the eyes. “Is this okay, ’Hun?”

 

 _Are you okay?_ is unspoken, but Sehun catches it, anyway.

 

“Of course, hyung.” He gives all of them a small, but sure, smile. “One day at a time, you know? That’s how I’ve always approached things.”

 

 

#

 

 

 _Leaving didn’t have to mean goodbye,_ Sehun muses as they all line up for the start of their concert. Even in the rush of makeup and clothing noonas making their final adjustments, and the echoes of screaming fans, he finds time to think about _them,_ again.

 

If the others knew they’d probably laugh, but Sehun could care less. They’d learned a long time ago to leave him to his thoughts, and so what if that gave him an uptight image? Yifan used to say that his face was made for breaking hearts, and Sehun would just laugh it off. After all, it’s his heart that’s been battered—three times, now.

 

First, Yifan cut himself off, and that was final, but Zitao’s and Luhan’s cases were stickier _._ If Sehun weren’t so generous, he’d probably agree with certain members that the three of them _gave up_.

 

But he gets it. Them. He gets why they left.

 

He gets why Yixing still talks to Luhan. Why the others unfollowed Yifan, then Luhan, then Zitao—petty, miniscule actions that the fans still pore over, years after they happened. Honestly, Sehun would, too. Even as someone in EXO himself, nothing was ever clear-cut about the lawsuits and countersuits, mistreatment, missed opportunities; the list goes on.

 

Finally, their platform rises, and the opening notes of the “Mama” rock remix blares across the venue.

 

Sehun glides through the choreography with ease—it helps that he only has a few seconds worth of lines. That fact doesn’t change even as the song segues into “Monster,” and finally, “Wolf.” When the mashup ends, Sehun slides into his ending pose alone. He looks to the spot that Luhan would’ve occupied beside him, and closes his eyes.

 

On the worst days, _We Are One_ mocks him—a reminder of the past so intertwined with his identity as EXO’s Sehun. And yet, he finds those days appearing less and less. They’re SM idols—despite what the public expects and their company projects, they’ll never be perfect.

 

And that’s okay.

 

Sehun has eight other hyungs to live with. They love him, which is something he couldn’t confidently say just a few years back. It’s cheesy, but he lets the warmth from that realization mingle with his adrenaline and envelop him.

 

 _We Are One_ was broken years ago, but it’s a great dream to work towards.

 

 

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Please leave comments regarding anything! Talking to people is how I really get motivated and get my creative juices flowing. 
> 
> And phew!! Finally done with the first fanfic I've written in years. I really liked writing Sehun--I'd imagine being a maknae in a group that had to lose members to really start clicking is no easy feat. Don't get me wrong; OT12 was a force, but a machine can only go for so long if its parts are miserable. That made more sense in my head.
> 
> Well, I loved this journey, and I hope you guys did too! Until next time :)


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